


My Heart Is Set On You

by MarzgaPerez



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Abuse, Adolescent Sexuality, Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Dysfunctional Family, Feels, First Kiss, Grease the Movie, Homophobic Language, Inspired by Grease, Intimacy, Lotsa Danny and Sandy references, Love, M/M, Pining, Secret Relationship, Shameless Big Bang, fluffy af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-09 21:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20516939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarzgaPerez/pseuds/MarzgaPerez
Summary: Shameless Big Bang!High school senior Mickey Milkovich, first baseman for the Glendale Raiders, is seeing junior Ian Gallagher in secret. Ian is president of the LGBTQ student group, and his best friend is Mandy Milkovich, president of the drama club.Life for Mickey and Ian gets even more interesting when Mandy talks them into auditioning for the school’s fall production of Grease.





	1. Chapter 1

Ian shielded his eyes, blocking the rays of light bursting out of the afternoon sky. His best friend, Mandy, was seated next to him on the bleachers, prattling on about something. As much as he wanted to listen and be supportive of her latest musings, Ian was too busy trying to get a glimpse of her brother, Mickey, in action on the baseball field. 

It was just a pick-up game. The regular season wouldn’t start for several months, but when Mandy suggested they stop by the field after school to check things out, Ian was all for it. He kept his excitement to himself though. Mandy had no idea that Ian and her brother were hooking up on a regular basis or that Ian had convinced himself that he was in love with Mickey. It was probably better for all of them. 

This was mainly because Mickey didn’t want anyone to know about him and Ian. He was convinced it would ruin his reputation, but most of all, Mickey was worried about his father disowning him and kicking him out of the house for “being a raging faggot”. 

Plus, Mandy would have been torn on the matter. She loved her brother and would be forever loyal to him, but she also loved Ian and would fight any guy who came close to breaking his heart, which Mickey did on a regular basis, though Ian usually swallowed his feelings on the matter.

After so many months, Ian had come to accept the fact that he was Mickey’s guilty pleasure, his well-kept secret. Fuck, they’d never even kissed on the lips. Mickey didn’t want to, mostly out of fear that he’d start to have feelings for Ian. He’d never said so in those exact words, but Ian wasn’t blind—not when it came to reading Mickey—though one could argue he was an idiot for continuing to be Mickey’s bitch. 

“It’s just, this guy, the new drama teacher, Mr. Lishman. He’s...way out there,” complained Mandy. “He has weird ideas, and the rest of us are, like, let’s just go for the usual run-of-the-mill high school theater production. It’s like, _hello,_ _ why are you making things complicated_?”

Ian was staring intently at Mickey’s every move and realized Mickey was glaring back at him in a threatening way. He diverted his attention back to his friend and her current crisis. “Which show is it?” he asked, trying to show interest. 

“_Grease._ You know, the one set in the 50’s with all of the innuendo and good girl meets bad boy crap. High school love story. Sandy and Danny and their respective cliques—the Pink Ladies and the T-Birds.”

Ian nodded. Of course he knew that one. He and his mother used to curl up together on the couch and watch the movie version when it came on cable—when they actually had cable and when Monica bothered being around. Ian found himself most attracted to the character of Kenickie, not the lead played by John Travolta, whom most people, including his mother, went apeshit over. He had kept this information from his mother, not fully understanding nor wanting to explain why he wasn’t into any of the female characters.

Mandy continued. “I mean, I’d love to audition for the role of Sandy, but it requires a pretty, light-haired girl, and we all know Karen Jackson will nab it. And I’m sure whoever her current fuck boy is—not your brother anymore, from what I’ve heard—will go for the part of Danny Zuko.”

“Don’t know anything about that,” said Ian. And he really didn’t. Ian tried to stay out of his brother Lip’s personal affairs, especially when it came to Lip and Mandy, who had gotten tangled up a time or two. Case in point why he didn’t want Mandy to know about him and Mickey. 

She grabbed his shoulders and startled him out of his trance—he was back to watching Mickey jog towards the dug-out, the very dug-out where the two of them had been together multiple times.

“You’ll try out, right?” Mandy asked with a mix of hope and demand in her tone, as if wanting to obligate him as a duty of their friendship. “I mean, these things usually have a very poor showing. And it’s rare to find people like you and me who appreciate a classic like _ Grease_.”

“I’ll think about it,” said Ian, his thoughts turning back to Mickey and the pounding he’d give him later, should his favorite brunet give him the signal to meet up.

They waited around for Mickey until the game was over, and the trio started the walk to their neighborhood. Mickey didn’t seem all that thrilled to see his sister and “her” friend, calling them “losers” and pulling on Mandy’s hair like a five year old. Ian avoided eye contact with him and remained quiet as the Milkovich siblings went at it. 

“Nice job out there, Mick. Glad you’re finally getting to first base.” Mandy laughed at her own joke. 

“Ha, ha...well, seeing the two of you dipshits on the bleachers was really inspiring,” Mickey said dryly. “I bet your after-school club groupies were fuckin’ devastated without you.” 

“Fuck you!” Mandy shouted, looping her arm into Ian’s and pulling him to walk ahead of Mickey. She looked back over her shoulder and added, “Just be glad someone cares about seeing your stupid ass play ball!”

Ian cringed at her words, knowing they were meant to drive home the point that Mickey hadn’t been contacted by any scouts lately. He’d injured his shoulder the previous season and was benched for most of his junior year. The Division 1 & 2 schools lost interest in him, and even for a Division 3 school, he wasn’t guaranteed any type of scholarship at this point. It was a shitty thing of Mandy to bring up, and Ian told her so once they were several yards in front of Mickey. 

“Mandy...not nice.”

“Yeah? Then tell him to stop making fun of the drama club and your LGBTQ group. If I hear him say the word ‘faggy’ one more time…” 

Ian slowed his pace and turned around to glare at an unsuspecting Mickey. “Wait. He says that? About me?” Ian’s voice was raised, his body tensed and ready to confront his asshole of a lover. 

Mandy tugged at his arm. “Only when my dad is around, you know, because Terry’s a fuckin’ bigot. C’mon. I don’t want to deal with my brother right now.”

Mickey had almost caught up to them now, his practice gear flung over his shoulder, his eyebrows raised towards Ian, wondering why he had stopped to stare at him. “What, Red? What?”

“It’s nothing,” yelled Mandy at her brother. “Let’s go, Ian!”

But Mickey came up fast behind Ian, grabbing his ass out of Mandy’s view and jumping on his back. “Ride ‘em, cowboy!” Mickey whooped in Ian’s ear and dug the backs of his shoes into his sides. 

Mandy rolled her eyes, but Ian laughed, in spite of himself, a shiver running down his spine at the sensation of Mickey on top of him, his fingers digging into Ian’s shoulders, his warm breath on his neck. They were only a few blocks away from their destination, so Ian took off with a gallop, leaving Mandy behind. 

He was strong and agile, thanks to his JROTC training, and Mickey, though muscular and thick, was the shorter of the two and lighter than he appeared. 

They rounded the corner to the Milkovich compound. Ian could have gone another few blocks, but he feigned being tired and dumped Mickey onto the patch of grass in front of his house. Mickey looked stunned and cried out in pain, having landed on his bag of gear. “Fucker! My shoulder!” He kicked Ian in the shin, causing him to bow over in pain, and Mickey pulled him down to the ground, pushing him on his back and readying his fist to give Ian a punch to the gut. 

Ian anticipated this move and flipped himself on top of Mickey, pressing the lower part of his arm into Mickey’s neck, threatening to cut off his air supply. He also sensed that Mickey was about to knee him in the groin, so he angled himself out of reach. “Faggy, huh? I’m fuckin’ faggy, Mick? Well, look who’s talking.” 

Ian had made peace with the fact that Mickey wanted to keep their relationship private, but he hated any of his hypocritical bullshit and derogatory slurs.

“W-what? What...are you...talking about?” spat out Mickey, trying to separate Ian’s arm from his windpipe. 

Realizing that Mandy would be there any minute, Ian pulled his arm away and lifted himself off of Mickey, keeping his guard up in anticipation of Mickey trying to take a cheap shot while he looked towards the Milkovich house. Ian wasn’t sure if the wonderful patriarch of the Milkovich clan was home. Anything that Terry perceived beyond horseplay between buddies would earn Ian a loaded shotgun pressed into his neck. 

Terry knew that Ian was gay and barely allowed the redhead inside his home. He wouldn’t be at all thrilled to find him on his front lawn, body pressed on top of his precious son. Fortunately, Terry traveled for work and was usually gone during the week at different construction sites. This appeared to be one of those times.

Ian was trying to catch his breath and answer Mickey’s question. “Mandy...told me...you’ve been saying ‘faggy,’ and you know how I feel about that shit.”

Mickey was leaning forward, head between his knees. “Oh, grow up, Gallagher. It’s just a word. It doesn’t mean anything…”

Ian didn’t feel like arguing with this brutish blockhead for the moment. Instead, he rose up and brushed the dirt off his pants and started back towards Mandy. “It means something to me, asshole!”

Mickey got up too. “Ian! Don’t be a dick. What about...” But he stopped in his tracks when he realized that Mandy was within earshot.

She was sprinting towards them, her demeanor less pissy and more animated. “Hey, fuckheads! Auditions start tomorrow for the musical. I just got an email from Mr. Lishman. I want you both there!” 

Mickey burst out into fits of laughter while Mandy waited patiently for him to finish. “You done, idiot?”

“Yeah. Good luck with your shitshow production!”

Mickey nodded at Ian before turning back towards the house. That slight little nod meant something. It meant that Mickey wanted to meet up later on and that Ian should be “on call” for a text. He wasn’t sure if he’d respond though. 

Fuck, he probably would, but he’d at least make Mickey beg him for it. There were certain perks to having this secret between them.

“It would look good on your college applications, Mickey. And you’d be doing me a favor!” Mandy apparently was not going to give up on this one, despite Mickey’s silent response of his middle finger held high in the air as he walked towards the house. 

Ian gave his best friend a reassuring pat on the back. “Maybe he’ll change his mind. But regardless, I’ll be there, Mands.” 

“Thanks. Maybe you can try out to play one of the T-birds. You’d get to sing ‘Greased Lightnin.’”

Ian grimaced. “The ‘pussy wagon’ song? I’m probably not the guy for that one.”

“It’s a high school production. We’ll have to clean up the lyrics.”

“Well, in that case, I’ll consider it.”

Mandy nodded gratefully. “I just wish you could talk Mickey into it. He’s a good singer. I know he’ll worry about Terry giving him shit, but we could really use his help.”

“I’ll let you two Milkovich siblings figure that one out. See ya tomorrow.” Ian waved goodbye before heading in the direction of his house. 

Yeah, he’d make Mickey beg for it alright, and maybe throw in a little persuasion to convince Mickey to try out for the play. Mandy had a point—it could help Mickey demonstrate to colleges that he was a well-rounded student, and Ian knew that no matter how much Mickey tried to deny it, he wanted out of this shithole life. As much as he’d miss Mickey, going away to college was probably his best bet.


	2. Chapter 2

Sex with Mickey wasn’t romantic by any stretch of the imagination. It was purely carnal, quick, and more often than not, over with before Ian would have liked. Mickey was straight forward about what he wanted and didn’t want, and Ian could take it or leave it. Ian ended up taking it—or giving it, rather—since Mickey bottomed every time they’d been together. On a few occasions, Mickey had graciously allowed Ian to suck him off, but other than a hand-job or some basic prep, Mickey was all business when they were “being intimate”. 

On his way over to the ball field for their arranged _ tête-à-tête_—thank you, two semesters of French with _ Monsieur Smith_—Ian pondered what it was about Mickey that kept him coming back for more. But he knew the answer. There were times, though rare, that Mickey let down his guard long enough for Ian to witness his vulnerabilities and even some kindness from the usually brusque older boy. 

_ Mickey tricked me from the very start_, mused Ian to himself, remembering the afternoon from almost a year ago when he’d gone over to the Milkovich house in search of Mandy. When Mickey opened the door to Ian’s incessant pounding, it must have been obvious that Ian had been crying, his eyes red and puffy.

“What?” Mickey had barked at Ian, showing little sympathy at first. And when he’d gotten no response because the only sounds coming from Ian’s mouths were shaky whimpers, Mickey informed Ian that Mandy was at the mall. He asked the younger boy if I’d like to come in and at least wash his “fucked-up looking” face.

Mickey opened the door wide enough for him to enter and went back to whatever he was doing. Ian figured he’d just finished baseball practice, or maybe a game, since he was wearing his Glendale Raiders jersey. Mickey always looked so fucking hot in that uniform.

Ian used the guest bathroom to splash some water on his face, but was unsure if he should wait around for Mandy. A few seconds later, Mickey called out to him from the kitchen unexpectedly. “I just heated up a pizza. You want a slice, kid?” 

“Um, s-sure,” responded Ian after drying his face and meeting Mickey back in the living room. He didn’t want to say “no” to the offer, in spite of the nervous knot that had formed in the pit of his stomach. Ian had developed a small crush on Mickey a few years back but kept it to himself. 

“But...uh...why are you being nice to me?” Ian blushed, realizing he’d spoken that aloud, instead of just thinking it to himself. It wasn’t as though Mickey had ever been unkind, per se, but he definitely hadn’t shown any interest in Ian before, treating Mandy and her best friend like their very existence was his own personal annoyance.

Mickey chuckled and clicked his tongue. “Dunno. My sister says you’re alright. And you’ve been dealing with some shit at school. Did they ever figure out who spray-painted ‘fag’ on your locker?”

“No. Was it you?” asked Ian, again feeling surprised at his boldness. He took a seat on the couch, trying to calm his nerves. Mickey Milkovich was actually engaging him in a conversation, and Ian was forming complete sentences—it was some kind of miracle. Usually when Mickey was around, Ian preferred to hide in Mandy’s room rather than embarrass himself with incoherent blathering.

“Fuck no! Spray painting shit is so eighth grade. And what the fuck do I care who you fuck?” Mickey returned to the kitchen but kept talking. “So why’d you come over here boo-hooing?”

“Oh. That.” Ian hadn’t been sure about opening up to Mickey, but he did anyway. “It’s my folks. They, um, both blew off my awards banquet this afternoon. And my sister would have been there, but Frank and Monica promised, so she made other plans…”

“God. Frank Gallagher. What an asshole. I’m sorry, man. I can’t say that my pops is any better though.” Mickey emerged from the kitchen with two plates in his hand, each with a stack of piping hot pizza slices. “Here. I always eat when I’m bummed out. Don’t tell nobody. I sound like a damn bitch on the rag.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Ian accepted the plate with a smile of gratitude for Mandy’s older brother, who honestly, Ian had always suspected of being gay, but he wouldn’t dream of approaching the topic with Mandy and certainly not with Mickey. Ian wasn’t always right about these things, but there was just something about Mickey. Maybe it was wishful thinking.

Mickey took a seat next to Ian and began to stuff a piece of pizza in his mouth, sauce dripping down his chin, and Ian could feel himself staring at Mickey, his sadness from just moments ago evaporating into thin air as he studied Mickey’s mouth—the way he devoured the piece of pizza, hissing at the burning sting from the melted cheese but continuing to take bites anyway.

Mickey must have noticed how entranced Ian was. “What? Why are you looking at me?”

“Oh...it’s...um...you have...sauce...there…” Ian pointed towards Mickey’s chin, but the sauce was in multiple places. 

“Fuck. Coach’ll kill me if I fuck up another jersey. Get it off, huh?”

“Who? Me? Uh…” Ian cautiously lifted a finger towards Mickey’s mouth before he was shunned away.

“I meant, get me a fuckin’ napkin, would ya?”

“Right! Sorry.” Ian stood up abruptly, his hands shaking in embarrassment, so much so that he flipped his plate onto the ground. The pizza slices went flying across the room. 

“What the fuck, Gallagher?!” exclaimed Mickey, rising up from the couch and grabbing Ian’s arm. Ian braced himself for a blow but instead, Mickey pushed him back down on the couch, straddling him as he pointed to his mouth. “Lick it off.”

“W-what?” Ian figured Mickey was fucking with him. He tried to get up and go in search of a napkin, but Mickey pushed him back down. 

“You heard me. Clean off my face…” Mickey looked dead serious. “With your tongue. That’s what ‘lick’ means, doesn’t it?”

“B-but...why?” Ian couldn’t deny that he’d like to fulfill this random command from Mickey. Hadn’t he dreamed of a moment like this, maybe even masturbated a few times to the image of being at the brunet’s command. But coming directly from Mickey, it just didn’t make sense.

Mickey lowered his face close to Ian’s. “I may be a jock, but I ain’t stupid. I’ve seen you foaming at the mouth whenever I’m around.” 

“Well, uh. So what?” _ Classic comeback_, Ian told himself, cringing at how juvenile he sounded. 

“So...I’ve been sorta interested myself, and you acting all nervous and shit around me is turning me on.” Ian couldn’t help but notice the outline of an erection that had formed underneath Mickey’s sweatpants.

“Oh...o-okay,” stammered Ian.

“Last chance, then, Red. You gonna lick my face clean, or just keep staring? Cuz when you’re through, we’re going into my room, and I’m gonna let you fuck me...if you think you’re up for it.”

Ian could have practically come right then and there—such a generous offer from such an unlikely source. And this was someone he was actually interested in—not like those few fucks he’d had freshman year when he’d first come out and was desperate to get laid. He wondered how experienced Mickey was, or if this was an experimental phase for him. 

In any event, Ian had complied, gladly and fervently, licking the rogue tomato sauce from Mickey’s chin and then around his lips, careful not to do anything more than he was told. Mickey had pulled him up from the couch, shrugging at the mess of the spilled pizza on the floor, and led Ian into his bedroom—an area of the house where Ian had never dared to tread before. Mickey shut the door behind them, tossed a bottle of lube to Ian and told him to get his dick ready. 

It was probably the most exciting thing that had ever happened to Ian, and he didn’t last long at all, apologizing to Mickey as the older boy told him to shut-up, jerking himself off with Ian’s release leaking out of his asshole.

Ian was back out in the living room, tidying things up when Mandy got back from the mall. She didn’t seem to suspect anything, though Ian was sure that the guilt and exhilaration he felt about what he’d just done with Mickey was all over his face. 

He left the Milkovich house that day thinking that was his first and only shot with Mickey, but soon delighted in the coming weeks as the two of them found ways to be together again, discreetly, and Ian found ways to last longer. Every opportunity they had when Terry was away for work, Ian would wait for Mickey’s signal that the coast was clear and sneak into his bedroom through the window, undetected by Mandy, best they could tell. Some of Ian’s favorite times with Mickey were under the bleachers at the baseball field, giving Mickey a victory hand-job after a win for the Glendale Raiders.

Things had gotten interesting after Mickey’s shoulder injury. Ian had tried to be extra gentle when they were together, but Mickey would have none of it—he wanted the sex rough, and he wanted it often. Ian became a drug Mickey couldn’t get enough of. Though they never kissed, Mickey did begin to open up to Ian, sharing his extreme disappointment over his injury and being benched for his entire junior year. 

Ian liked to think that he had somehow curtailed Mickey from falling into a deep depression. There was the constant physical release he provided, and Ian insisted to Mickey that he should, under no uncertain circumstances, give up on his plan to go to college, baseball scholarship or not. 

Ian eventually asked his brother Lip to tutor Mickey and help him get his grades up. Actually, he paid Lip out of his savings from his after-school job. This was all under the guise of helping Mandy’s older brother. Never could Ian demonstrate any public or otherwise affection for his lover in an obvious manner. Mickey had sworn him to secrecy. 

Ian wished things could be different for Mickey. He himself was proud to be out and encouraged other members of the support group he’d founded to do the same. But it wasn’t in the cards at the moment for Mickey. And so, Ian would have to enjoy the time they did have, even if it sometimes felt stolen and cheap. 

As Ian neared the baseball field, he felt a tingling in his stomach, figuring that Mickey had arrived before him and was probably hiding in the shadows of the dugout for the Home Team. Ian scaled the fence with gusto, excited to see Mickey and curious if he could persuade him to help out Mandy in her time of need. It might do Mickey some good to branch out and use his free time on something productive. He could at least help out with designing the sets for the musical, and it would give them a chance to be together, even if they couldn’t _ be _ together. 

Ian would take a crack at convincing him, anyway, since he could, after all, be very persuasive with his tongue. 


	3. Chapter 3

As Mandy had predicted, Karen Jackson was seated in the front row of the auditorium, leaning forward in her seat and taking in every word Mr. Lishman was saying. She’d styled her hair to look like the goody-two shoes version of Sandy, complete with a mint-colored silk headband.

“As if he gives two fucks, honey,” whispered Mandy and then raised her voice. “Hello! He isn’t interested in what’s between your legs.” 

Ian shushed her, though he couldn’t hide a smile at his best friend’s commentary. They were in the middle of the auditorium, Mandy wanting to hang back and not appear overly eager. She’d settled on auditioning for the second female lead in the show, tough-talking with a soft-side Rizzo, but didn’t want anyone to think she was automatically going to get the part, just because she was the drama club president. 

There were a dozen or so other students waiting around for the auditions to begin but no sign of Mickey. At least Mandy was less stressed about the show because she’d secured commitment from the varsity dance team to be extras in the scenes with heavily choreographed routines.

They would still need actors for the show who could carry a tune and be able to do some of the dance moves. Ian remembered being surprised, stunned actually, when Mandy shared pictures of her and Mickey as children performing in their church choir. It was something their mother had insisted upon while she was still living, and something their father had discouraged after Mrs. Milkovich passed away. She was a trained pianist and had a love of music that she shared with her children. Mandy had stuck with it, but Mickey learned rather quickly that Terry would not tolerate his son getting involved in the arts. 

Given his father’s attitude, Mickey was unlikely to appear at the audition, despite the pleas and guilt trip from Mandy and the empty threats from Ian to go on strike from their regular rendezvous. Ian took one last shot at pressing Mickey to show up by texting him a picture of the nearly vacant auditorium. 

Mr. Lishman was giving some spiel about wanting to change things up with this production, that anyone could audition for any role, and that he would be placing people accordingly. He motioned for Mandy to come up to the stage and read lines with those trying out. Ian slumped down in his seat, unsure of why he’d let Mandy convince him to take part in this. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around, hoping to see Mickey, but it was his brother Lip who’d sat down behind him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ian muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “Stalking Karen?”

“No, just came to check things out,” replied Lip in a tone that was entirely unconvincing.

Ian rolled his eyes. Clearly, Lip was still obsessed with Karen, though she’d dumped him for probably the fifth time. “Right. Sure, Lip.”

They were both quiet for most of the readings, but once the singing started, both Ian and Lip began snickering at the off-key renditions of “Hopelessly Devoted to You” and “There Are Worse Things I Could Do”. Mandy glared at both of them with daggers in her eyes, while Mr. Lishman told everyone, including the piano player, to quiet down. He started moving from the base of the stage down the aisle to where the Gallagher brothers were seated. 

Lishman was on the taller side, handsome for his age with pepper gray hair and distinguished features. It was a mystery how or why he’d landed at Glendale, but at the moment, he was hell bent on calling out Ian and Lip for their antics.

“You two. Go up to the stage. I want to hear you sing in front of these fine people. It’s easy to sit back and criticize others.”

Lip smirked at him. “Sir, with all due respect, you can’t make us. I’m just here to watch.”

“_Au contraire_, little minion,” said Mr. Lishman while waving a finger in the air. “You are in my house right now, and you can either come up here and audition, or you can earn yourselves a week of detention. What’ll it be, fellas? Hmmmm?” 

Since Ian had promised to audition anyway, he stood up and nodded towards the drama teacher. “Sure. Happy to.” He started towards the stage and ascended the stairs, passing by Mandy whose hand was on her hip. “Nice job, dipshit.”

Lip was only a few feet behind him, and Mandy handed them both sheet music for “Summer Nights”.

“What are we supposed to do?” asked Ian. Lip stood next to him with his usual shitty grin, like he was planning to do the exact opposite of what had been demanded of him.

“You. The redhead. Sing the arrangement for Sandy. And you…what’s your name?”

“It’s Phillip. Lip for short.”

“Uh-huh. Phillip. Sing the part of the lead. Danny.”

Lip chuckled, too amused to protest this pairing with his brother. Ian knew Lip could probably remember the tune, having watched the movie with Monica as well, but he figured that Mr. Lishman was going to achieve his desired goal of humiliating them.

Once the piano player started, and Mandy cued him in, Ian sang his designated lyrics with slight commitment. He knew all the words.

“Summer lovin’ happened so fast…”

Lip chimed in with his portion, mostly off key and unenthusiastic. The other students, Karen Jackson in particular, and a preppy looking dude who had joined her in the front row, howled with laughter.

About halfway through the song, Mr. Lishman mercifully cut the tune and told Lip to have a seat.

Mr. Lishman addressed Ian. “Your singing isn't bad. Let’s try another song, and this time, I’m going to pair you up with…” He scanned the room, settling his gaze momentarily on Karen’s apparent boy-toy but then craning his neck to spot someone who had entered quietly and was sitting in the furthest row back. 

“You! Hey you, there! Come forward!”

Ian had been too busy trying to keep up with the music and lyrics that he hadn’t noticed anyone enter the auditorium. And now that person was being summoned to the front. Mickey.

_ Fuck, why did Mickey have to look so good_, swaggering up to the front in his workout gear, just like Danny Zuko in the portion of the film when he was trying out for different sports to impress Sandy.

“I’m just here to support my sister,” explained Mickey, lingering several feet away from the steps to the stage.

“Great. You can support her by auditioning,” insisted Lishman. 

Mickey continued to protest. “Look, I’m not interested in your show. Like I said, I’m only here to—”

Lishman shushed him. “Enough! If you’re in the auditorium, you’re auditioning. This is not a spectator sport. We’re not here for your amusement.”

Mickey looked like he had something else to say, but he held back. 

“Let’s pair you up with a different Sandy.” Ian realized that Mr. Lishman was dismissing him and thought about protesting because one, he’d done a damn good job in his unexpected assignment of the female lead—and two, there was no one who paired with Mickey better than he did.

Reluctantly, Ian walked in the opposite direction of Mickey to exit the stage. He didn’t dare make eye contact, though he’d find a way to thank him later for coming to the audition.

He could practically hear Mandy groan when Lishman called Karen up to the stage to perform “You’re the One that I Want” with Mickey.

Ian was grateful to have the chance to see Mickey in action. He’d heard Mickey sing around the Milkovich house before—in the shower a few times, though his voice was always muffled by the door. 

The music started, but Mickey missed his cue, standing motionless on the stage, his gaze fixed on the small group of students in the audience who were whispering amongst themselves, probably about the fact that one of Glendale's most notorious jocks had entered their realm. The theater kids were sometimes bullied, but they were also known to put out vibes of exclusivity.

Lishman had the piano player start from the top and motioned to Mickey right before it was time for him to come in. Ian wondered if he would comply, and then he noticed that defiant gleam in Mickey’s eyes—the one he got when he was about to prove everyone wrong.

When Mickey belted out his first note, Ian found himself completely wowed and in awe of his vocal talent. Karen wasn’t too bad either, and at the end of the song, the small group of students and Mr. Lishman burst into applause. Mandy clapped as well, though Ian knew she only intended it for her brother.

And there you had it. Danny Zuko and Sandy Olson of Glendale High’s fall production of _ Grease_. Or so everyone thought.

^^^^^^^^^^

Ian was planted by his locker, pretending to look for something in the very back. If he timed things just right, he’d get to see Mickey pass through the hallway before seventh period. This was sometimes his opportunity for the slight nod, and if not, he’d at least have the chance to set eyes on Mickey, his sparkling blue eyes and his perfect lips usually on the brink of saying “fuck you” to the people he was walking with. 

Seconds before Mickey was about to pass by, Mandy pounced on Ian’s back and shouted in his ear. “It’s posted! It’s up! The cast list!” Ian nearly dropped the textbook he was holding. 

“Okay, okay!” He was more disappointed about not catching Mickey’s eye than he was concerned about the stupid cast list. He could only steal a glance at the back of Mickey now—his round ass filling out his jeans. Ian sighed. 

“Hello! The list? Let’s go!” Mandy slammed Ian’s locker shut. 

“Hey! We’ll be late for class, Mands. The list won’t change in the next hour.”

“Ian! C’mon! You’re killing me. Mrs. Stevens will understand.” Mandy was tapping her foot impatiently, and Ian relented. 

“Fine. I don’t see what the big deal is anyway. You got Rizzo, Karen’s fuck-boy probably got Kenickie. Karen got Sandy, and I’m certain Mickey will be cast as Danny—though never in a million years is he going through with it, I can guarantee you that.”

“Ha! That’d be gross anyway. I think Rizzo and Danny hooked up at some point,” Mandy giggled. “Maybe you’ll be my Kenickie, and we’ll get to make out. But no pregnancy scare in the script. We can’t touch that theme.”

“Great,” muttered Ian. “No busted condoms, no pussy wagons...I guess on the plus side, I can invite my younger siblings to the show.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure Lishman will find a way to make it _ avant garde.”_

As they rounded the corner to the bulletin board outside the drama room, Ian could hear someone sobbing, and then he connected the sound with the source. It was Karen, her face pressed into the chest of Shane, the preppy guy who’d been at the audition with her. He didn’t look all that happy either.

“What happened, Karen?” Mandy asked in a drippingly sweet and obviously fake voice. 

“Bitch! Don’t act like you don’t know,” Karen growled. 

“What? I didn’t have a thing to do with the casting.” Mandy was trying to read what was on the list. “Can both of you kindly move?”

Karen turned around, tears streaming down her face. “I got Rizzo, okay? And Shane got a bit part—one of the T-birds. Like, what was that Lishman guy smoking when he casted this?”

Ian could tell that Mandy was trying to hide her disappointment over losing Rizzo to Karen. He walked over to Karen and her boy toy. “Move, please. Like Mandy asked.”

“Fine! Anything for the star of the show!” Karen wiped her face with her sleeve and grabbed ahold of Shane’s hand, leading him down the hall. 

“The star?” wondered Mandy. “What the fuck is she talking about?”

The first character listed was Danny Zuko, and no surprises there. Mickey Milkovich. Ian smiled. Mickey would actually be perfect for that character, all swagger and tough guy on the outside, but a vulnerable rebel at heart. Hopefully Lishman had come up with an understudy though. Mickey would surely decline it. 

There were two big surprises underneath Mickey’s name, and Ian and Mandy must have seen them at the exact same time—they both gasped. The name next to the part of Sandy Olson: Ian Gallagher. And as for Kenickie: Lip Gallagher. 

Mandy was cast as one of the Pink Ladies, Frenchy. _ Fitting, since she was Sandy’s best friend_, thought Ian, before he fully realized the implications of these casting choices. It hit him with a bang, and he staggered back, leaning against the wall to steady himself. 

_ What the actual... _

^^^^^^^^^^

_ Fuck_. Ian was anxious for the school day to be over with so he could have some alone time to process everything. He ended up going to his seventh period class, barely saying a word as his English teacher asked him why he was late. Ian just shrugged and walked to his desk in a total daze. Mandy had left school crying, too distraught about losing the chance to play Rizzo. 

Ian was now wishing he’d gone in search of Mickey, to somehow warn him about the news. His only hope was that most students didn’t care enough to pay attention to the cast posting and maybe they’d have a day to sort all this out.

He wasn’t opposed to playing Sandy, but Ian wanted to know if the intent was for him to dress in drag—which he knew would be prohibited by the PTA and probably the School Board. Or, would there be some kind of rewrite of the characters, which seemed to make more sense. Anyway, Mickey wasn’t going to do it, so Lishman would have to re-think his whole approach.

About 10 minutes before the bell, as Ian was mentally preparing to dash out the door and try to catch Mickey to tell him the news, Ian’s phone buzzed, and it seemed like everyone in his class carrying a cell phone received some sort of alert. Ian looked down at his phone and saw a notification from his Instagram account. He’d been tagged by KarenJekyll47.

Ian was too afraid to look, though he had a few guesses as to what he was in for. He clicked on the notification, and there was a picture of the casting sheet along with Ian and Mickey’s yearbook photos paired side by side with the outline of a pink heart drawn around the photos. The caption read: _ Glendale High’s newest sweethearts. _

Ian sank into his seat, gripped with fear for what this might do to Mickey, what it would do to their relationship. He wanted to text Mickey right away, but a few of his fellow students had gathered around his desk.

“Congrats, Ian,” one girl, Jessica, told him with a warm smile. “I love this idea for _ Grease_. It’s like a 2.0 version.”

Another one of his classmates, Marcus, who had attended his LGBTQ group a few times, patted him on the back. “If Karen’s trying to mess with you, that shit is only going to backfire.”

All of the kind words and nods of approval were a welcome distraction, but as soon as the bell rang, and everyone poured into the hallways, Ian braced himself for the barrage of stares and whispers that Karen’s post was sure to generate, especially from the seniors and the jocks. 

Ian wished he could teleport himself directly to his house. Instead, he lowered his eyes and walked as quickly as possible to the front door of the school. When he was just a few feet away from the exit, a couple of guys he recognized as basketball players planted themselves in his path with their arms folded across their chests. “Hey, fag boy...you gay for Mickey Milkovich?” They snickered, and Ian tried to push past them. Why give them the satisfaction of responding?

“Or is he gay for you?” One of them had grabbed onto the loop of Ian’s backpack. This was something he’d learned to maneuver back when he was a freshman. He simply stopped and let his backpack slide off his arms, then he turned around to punch the guy who still had his idiot fingers woven around the loop, which was usually such a shock that the moron would let go of the bag so Ian could scoop it up. Worked like a charm every time.

“Fuck you!” Ian added for emphasis as he scurried away. He knew this move might warrant one or both of the douchebags to follow him home. Thankfully, Mandy had come running back into the school, and arrived when the whole thing transpired. She linked her arm with Ian’s and spat back at them: “You two losers wish someone wanted to fuck you—girl or boy. Can’t score on the court or off!” 

Mandy and Ian dashed down the steps and around the corner of the school, looking behind them every few steps to see if they were being followed. When it seemed like they were in the clear, they slowed their pace, and Ian thanked Mandy for sticking up for him.

“I thought you were gone for the day, Mands.”

“Well,” she said with a smile that was probably meant to comfort him. “I saw what cunty Karen posted, so I came back. Wasn’t sure what kind of reception you’d be getting.”

“Don’t worry about me,” declared Ian. “What about Mickey? Any idea where he is?” 

“Might have another pick up game. He’s a big boy. Most everyone knows not to fuck with him. He’ll just brush it off.”

Ian hadn’t had a chance to text Mickey yet, nor had he heard from him. When Mandy suggested they go hang at her house, Ian declined, wanting to be alone and think things over. He wasn’t sure he’d be up to being the gay poster child again, and dealing with the jeers and ridicule from at least some portion of the student body. 

When he got home, Ian headed for the kitchen, grabbed a bag of chips and a soda, and went outside to the backyard to stretch out in the single lawn chair and hopefully avoid his family for a few hours. He knew he should probably congratulate Lip for his part in the show, though he didn’t know if his brother would go through with it. 

A few minutes after getting settled and downing his soda, Ian got a text from Mickey: _ We need to talk. Tonight at 9pm. Usual spot._

Ian gupled. “We need to talk” was never a good sign.


	4. Chapter 4

“Did you come alone?” Mickey took one last drag of his cigarette before dropping it to the cement floor of the dugout and snuffing the glowing orange light out with his shoe. 

“Of course. What do you—” Ian stopped mid-sentence, taken aback by the look in Mickey’s eyes. He’d never seen it before, and for the first time in a long time, Ian was afraid of this raging hulk of a shorter man standing in front of him. 

“Was this your idea?” Mickey said through gritted teeth, backing Ian into the cool cement of the dugout wall, as he held up his phone with Karen’s post displayed. 

“Mick. I had nothing—” 

“And the show? Whose fuckin’ idea was gay _ Grease_?!” Mickey pulled his hand into a fist and pounded on the cement, an inch or two away from the side of Ian’s face. That had to have hurt Mickey’s knuckles, but Ian didn’t dare say a word about it. He realized there was little he could say or do to assuage Mickey’s anger, but he answered anyway.

“I don’t know,” he stammered. “B-but neither of us has to be in the show, least of all you. And please...don’t blame Mandy—she didn’t know anything about it.”

Mickey’s expression softened for a second, probably at the mention of his sister’s name, before his face settled back into a state of sheer anger. 

“No fucking way I’m doing that show. But I got other worries. Like, didn’t that Karen bitch used to date your brother, and does she somehow know about you and me?”

“Yes, they used to date, but Lip doesn’t know about us, and even if he did, he’d never tell her!”

“Good,” Mickey said, slowly backing away from Ian. “Cuz we can’t be together right now. Not for awhile. Not until this shit blows over. Maybe...not ever.”

“Mickey...” Ian said softly, his heart sinking in his chest. Mickey had made similar declarations before, once when he was certain some punk kid had spotted them together under the bleachers at school and once when he was convinced the mailman had seen Ian sneaking out of Mickey’s window one morning. These “breaks” had typically only lasted a few days. But Mickey seemed dead serious about this one. 

“Fuck,” muttered Mickey, clearly ignoring the look of despair on Ian’s face. “I’m gonna have to find a chick to bang, someone slutty and stupid, in case I have to fake it. And I’ll probably have to take her out, show up at some football games with her. Jesus, this sucks!”

Ian was quiet, not understanding how Mickey could be saying these things and at the same time, knowing exactly why he was saying these things. He figured that Mickey would detest seeing him get emotional, but he let his tears fall anyway. Pushing past Mickey, Ian took a seat on the bench in the dugout and put his face in his hands. He couldn’t hold it in any longer, this was all too much, loving someone but being made to feel like it was wrong, like he was wrong, and the person he so badly needed to love him back couldn’t...or wouldn’t. 

Mickey surprised him though, kissing Ian on the top of his head, letting his hand drift down the side of Ian’s tear-stained cheek before resting it on his shoulder.

“This is the way it has to be. You’ve known that about me. This whole time.” He mumbled some shitty excuse about not wanting to risk anyone seeing them together, and then Mickey was gone. 

^^^^^^^^^^ 

Despite being extremely down about Mickey’s decision to end things—either temporarily or permanently—Ian managed to pull himself together that next morning and join his brother on their usual walk to school. He didn’t say much, only listened to Lip as he sang bits of “Greased Lightnin’”, having decided that he was going to take on playing Kenickie.

“Great,” mumbled Ian. “Maybe you can win Karen back. There’s probably a kissing scene or two.”

“I don’t give two shits about Karen. And that was before she tried to humiliate you online.” Lip patted him on the shoulder. “I’m in if you’re in. I’ve got your back, man. Even if I’m gonna look like the biggest idiot.”

“Thanks, Lip,” said Ian with gratitude but still not sure if he would accept the unorthodox role he’d been given. 

“You think Mickey’s gonna go through with it?” 

“You know the answer to that,” Ian muttered, suddenly overcome with anger about how trapped Mickey must be feeling. “Do you think Terry Milkovich would allow his son to star in a musical, let alone a musical where his romantic lead is another guy?”

“Yeah, well, fuck the both of them. Terry for being a close-minded asshole and Mickey for being a pussy about the whole thing.”

“Huh?” said Ian. “Why’s that being a pussy? He doesn’t want to get his ass beat by his shit-for-brains father...”

“I’m not talking about the play...” Lip looked at him with a knowing gaze. Ian shrugged it off. _ Who cares if Lip suspects something? Mickey and I are done anyway. _

As they got closer to the school, Ian told Lip about the basketball players who’d harassed him the day before. Lip figured out who they were, based on Ian’s description.

“Those assholes are cut off from any more of my services,” Lip declared. “No term papers, test answer keys, not even tutoring. I don’t care how much they offer me. And anyone else who gives you shit, little bro, well…” He stopped mid-sentence. “Fuck, I forgot. You can take care of yourself. I have to remember that now.”

Ian smiled. “I’ll definitely try. But I know who to call if I run into any trouble.” He and Lip hadn’t gotten into any fist fights lately, mostly because Lip knew Ian had a good shot at taking him. 

“See you at rehearsal?” Lip asked, having accompanied Ian to his first class, in an attempt to shield him from any hassle, despite knowing that Ian could fend for himself. 

“We’ll see,” said Ian quietly, thinking again about Mickey and wondering if he should turn down the play. Maybe that would lead to a reconciliation much sooner. 

^^^^^^^^^^ 

Ian and Mandy were seated on a picnic table in the courtyard, eating their lunches, although Ian had barely touched his cafeteria classic, a square slice of pizza with pepperoni bits. 

“Don’t miss this opportunity just because a couple of closed-minded assholes are trying to ruin things.” Mandy was referring to, not only the basketball players from the day before, but also the shitty comments people had made on Karen’s post about queers and faggots and anything else you could think of that was unoriginal and derogatory. 

The only silver lining to this whole situation was that Mr. Lishman hadn’t cared for the undertones in Karen’s post, and he’d kicked her out of the show. Mandy was immediately cast as Rizzo, and with Mickey out, both of them suspected that fuck-boy Shane would be upgraded to Danny, though he might not be sold on the idea of his leading lady being a leading man. 

Ian was still undecided about playing Sandy, mainly because he wanted as far away from the thing that broke him and Mickey up as possible. But he couldn’t tell Mandy. 

She was trying to lighten the mood. “At least if Mickey was playing Danny, you’d know the guy you were kissing. That Shane dude looks like he’s had those lips in one too many twats.”

“Gross,” sneered Ian, dropping the slice of pizza back onto his plate. “So you’re telling me that your brother’s been a saint?” 

“Eh.” Mandy shrugged. “Good point. Mickey doesn’t talk about his conquests with me, so he could be a total whore for all I know. But I don’t really know—he’s always been low key about dating.”

“What was his last girlfriend’s name?” pressed Ian, knowing that he shouldn’t put Mandy on the spot but still interested in what she had to say.

“He’s fucked that Angie chick a few times.”

“Just Angie? You don’t find that a bit odd?”

“Why? What are you getting at?” Mandy furrowed her brow. 

“Nothing.” 

Why make things worse, why try to out Mickey to his sister? What good would that do? Ian steered the conversation in another direction. “Maybe he’s worried about getting someone pregnant…”

“Probably.” Mandy nodded. “Mickey is not looking to be tied down. He wants out of here.”

“Don’t we all,” said Ian somberly.

They left it at that, and Ian offered to take their trays inside, promising to meet Mandy at rehearsal. Lishman had asked him to stop by his classroom beforehand so they could have a chat about the show. More than likely, he would try to convince Ian to go forward with playing Sandy. Hell, if this was going to show the bigots and assholes of the world that he wasn’t afraid of them and that other people in his position didn’t need to be either, Ian figured the decision was already made. 


	5. Chapter 5

The bell rang to signal the end of the day, and Ian wished he had a disguise as he wove in and out of clusters of students, some of them giving him high fives, which was a welcome relief. Ian wouldn’t have minded the attention if his relationship with Mickey wasn’t in the toilet and weighing heavily on his mind. 

Once he reached Mr. Lishman’s classroom, Ian went immediately inside. Only Lishman was there, rifling through a pile of papers on his desk. 

“Ian!” Mr. Lishman practically shouted, adjusting his glasses so that they sat balanced across his nose. “I’m glad you’re here. Have a seat,” he said warmly, pointing to one of the desks in the front row. “In hindsight, I probably should have warned you about all of this.”

“Yeah, probably,” scoffed Ian, not wanting to be disrespectful but also wanting Lishman to know he wasn’t exactly thrilled with the way things had transpired in the past twenty four hours. “Or maybe I should have known when you had me read for Sandy.”

“Right...well...I actually came up with the idea because of you and your advocacy work. I was told about the LGBTQ group you started. I admire your tenacity and the way you decided to come out at a young age, younger than most people I know.” Mr. Lishman chuckled awkwardly, “I, myself, for instance, have an ex-wife and two grown sons, and only now am I officially out.”

Just as Mandy and Ian had suspected. Still, it was refreshing to hear it from the man himself. “So...Mr. Lishman, what is your vision for the show? Am I doing drag? Because I don’t want to be a part of something that is more about shock value versus actually respecting diversity.” 

“Hmmm. Of course I want the production to be respectful and not exploitative, so I think the best approach is for Sandy to be a young man who’s fallen in love with another young man. Danny Zuko, of course. Danny puts on a front for the rest of the world, but he’s more than just a greaser who likes to race cars. And of course, Sandy, being more optimistic about love and all that Danny has to offer…well, he never quite wants to give up on Danny.”

_ Fuck_, thought Ian. _ I’ve walked into a show with a theme central to my own life. _

Lishman continued. “You probably already know this, Ian, but Mickey Milkovich has asked to be removed from any association with the production. I thought he really could have nailed this version of Danny. But...if he’s not comfortable with this sort of thing…” 

“Right. So...who will play Danny?”

“I think our only option is Shane Greer, you know, the tall one with the perfectly coiffed hair. He’s actually more of a—do you remember the character Lorenzo Lamas played in the film?”

“Oh, yeah...Tom, I think. A jock. Pretty...but not too bright.”

“Exactly! He’d be great for that role. But, with the lack of young men interested in the play...I think he might be it, as far as Danny's go. I’ve thought about casting some of the young ladies who auditioned as T-Birds, just to mix things up. I want this show to be about challenging gender norms and stereotypes. There’s quite a bit of misogynistic language and activity in the film version, and I’d like to push it more into the background, maybe modernize the story a bit. Your thoughts?” Lishman removed his glasses from his face and waved them in Ian’s direction.

“It’s definitely compelling, and I might be able to convince a few kids from the support group to join in as extras. We’ve been wanting the school to do something more inclusive, and this may be a start.”

“Yes, well, I’m sorry for the way in which all of this has played out.”

“It’s not your fault,” Ian offered. “But before I say ‘yes,’ I have one more question.”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Or maybe it’s more of a request. Basically, I don’t want to wear the black hot pants—I guess they were spandex—from the carnival scene. Not really my thing.”

Lishman laughed heartily. “I’m willing to negotiate on that one. So, I’ll see you at rehearsals?”

“Yes, sir,” said Ian before the little voice inside his head told him to run far, far away from this potential shitshow. He picked up his backpack and marched over to the auditorium, his shoulders back and his head held high as he went inside. He’d channel his frustrations and longing and broken heart into this role, and he’d impress the hell out of everyone, including Mickey, should he dare to attend. 

As he walked towards the front of the auditorium, Ian was met with cheers from the cast members who were on stage, congregating around the piano, and working on a few of the songs. Lip was there, looking as proud as ever, and Mandy came down from the stage to give Ian a hug.

He was really doing this!

^^^^^^^^^^

Their first practice was more informative since Mr. Lishman was working on revising the script now that Ian and Shane had accepted their roles. He was also reaching out to the copyright holder of the production to secure consent for the rewrites, presenting his case for wanting to do a show to challenge societal norms. Apparently, he had a lot of connections in the industry. Lishman shared that he’d come from the corporate side of producing, before getting burned out and looking for a way to give back, thus, taking the Glendale gig. 

Mr. Lishman encouraged the two pairs of “love interests” to get to know each other better, and he passed around the music that didn’t require major edits, including a clean version of “Grease Lightnin’”. He explained that the first half of upcoming practices would be learning the songs and the second half would be focused on learning the dialogue. 

Ian and Shane chatted briefly. Shane expressed slight remorse over Karen’s obnoxious behavior, explaining that they were mostly fuck buddies and that she’d “broken up” with him for not standing in solidarity with her when she’d gotten the boot. 

Ian learned that Shane had transferred to Glendale the year before and had been laying low, trying to get a feel for the place and never really finding his crowd, _ which made him the perfect target for Karen_, thought Ian. They agreed on having lunch together the next day in the cafeteria to continue “bonding”, per Lishman’s instructions. 

After practice, Ian waited in the back of the auditorium for Lip and Mandy, watching from afar as the two of them danced around their obvious relationship issues, speaking quietly with subtle gestures of becoming reacquainted. Ian knew where this was heading—they wouldn’t have any trouble playing the star crossed lovers of Rizzo and Kenickie. 

Too bad Karen was out of the show altogether. She could have been cast as Chachi Rodriguez—the girl with the bad reputation who Kenickie takes to the dance after Rizzo gives him the cold shoulder—it would have been perfect.

That night, Lishman e-mailed a draft of the “Summer Nights” lyrics to him and Shane for their feedback. 

_ Summer loving had me a blast_

_Summer loving happened so fast_

_ I met a guy crazy for me _

_ Met a boy cute as can be_

_—_

_ Summer days drifting away to oh oh the summer nights_

_—_

_Tell me more, tell me more_

_ Did you get very far _

_ Tell me more, tell me more _

_ Like does he have a car_

_—_

_ He swam by me he got a cramp _

_ He ran by me got my suit damp _

_ I saved his life he nearly drowned _

_ He showed off splashing around_

_—_

_Summer sun something's begun but oh oh the summer nights_

_—_

_ Tell me more, tell me more _

_ Was it love at first sight? _

_ Tell me more, tell me more _

_ Was the kissing alright? - It was more than alright - _

—

_ Took him bowling in the arcade _

_ We went strolling drank lemonade _

_ We made out under the dock _

_ We stayed out till 10 o'clock _

—

_ Summer fling don't mean a thing but oh oh the summer nights. _

—

_ Tell me more, tell me more _

_ But you don't gotta brag _

_ Tell me more, tell me more _

_ Cause he sounds like a drag _

—

_ He got friendly holding my hand _

_ He got friendly down in the sand _

_ He was sweet just turned eighteen _

_ Well he was good you know what I mean _

—

_ Summer heat boy and boy meet but oh oh the summer nights. _

—

_ Tell me more, tell me more _

_ How much dough did he spend? _

_ Tell me more, tell me more _

_ Could he get me a friend? _

— 

_ It turned colder that's where it ends _

_ So I told him we'd still be friends _

_ Then we made our true love vow _

_ Wonder what he's doing now _

—

_ Summer dreams ripped at the seams but oh those summer nights _

The revisions flowed nicely. Ian was starting to get excited, but then he realized the one person he wanted to share in his excitement was unavailable to him. He went to bed early, too tired to join in the celebration downstairs that his big sister Fiona had thrown together for him and Lip. Tomorrow would be difficult, because it was another day of not being able to see Mickey, or acknowledge him in anyway. Ian hoped things would change, but unlike Sandy, he wasn’t feeling very optimistic. 


	6. Chapter 6

A few days had passed, and Ian was beginning to feel like he could safely traverse the halls of the school without the same level of paranoia and fear after Karen’s post. Everyone’s attention had turned to the next scandal—whatever it was—and because the show was several weeks away, the original hubbub would likely fade into the background. Lishman warned the cast that the interest level might increase closer to their debut, but for now, they could all relax and focus on learning their parts.

Following Lishman’s advice, Ian and Shane had eaten lunch together, and they’d decided to make it a regular thing, once or twice a week for the next few months. They chatted about their childhood interests, their siblings who had endearing and irritating qualities, and different struggles they’d faced growing up. 

Shane talked about the difficulties of moving to a new city and leaving lifelong friends behind. Ian shared a few details about his mostly absent parents and how his family had scraped by without them. He mentioned how his big sister, Fiona, was taking extra shifts at work so that Ian could cut back his own work hours to do the play.

Ian’s thoughts drifted to his most recent challenge—not something he would share with his new acquaintance—but it was certainly on his mind. He was trying to do whatever he could to avoid thinking about Mickey. That didn’t mean he’d actually succeeded, longing for the physical outlet that he’d had with Mickey. What they’d had meant more to him than that, but he did have needs, just like any other teenager. 

Lately, Ian had opted to take care of himself in the shower—one of the only places he had privacy in a house of six Gallaghers. Just for those occasions, he allowed his mind to wander into forbidden territory. Images of Mickey’s pale, squeezable ass appeared behind closed eyelids and the way he would open Mickey up, one finger at a time, everything slick from the generous amounts of lube Ian would apply to make sure Mickey was comfortable, even when he said not to bother with it. Ian had gotten in the habit of stripping off his own shirt and pushing Mickey’s shirt up as far as it would go, just so he could have the skin-to-skin contact he craved. 

Sometimes it was easier to think about Mickey as a fuck, rather than the person he loved. If they were still seeing each other, Ian knew the brunet would be laughing his ass off at the tales of Ian stumbling awkwardly during his choreography lessons for the show. But he’d also encourage Ian to do his best, giving him one of his famous pep talks about not getting in his own way. 

Deep down, Ian feared making a complete fool of himself in the show. He’d have to channel that lack of self-confidence into the part he was playing—timid and out-of-place Sandy, trying to figure out how she fit in while being rejected by the one person she thought was her true love. 

Ian was holding a forkful of lumpy mashed potatoes in mid-air when he spotted Mickey coming into the cafeteria. Shane must have noticed the sudden change in Ian’s energy. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

“Guess so. But I should probably get going.”

As Ian was gathering his things, he noticed the two basketball players from a few days ago coming towards the table. Lip had told him their names, but he’d forgotten already. It wasn’t important.

“Well, well, well,” said one of them in a loud voice that suddenly overtook the entire room. “It’s Glendale’s brand new lovebirds.” 

Shane shifted uncomfortably in his seat while Ian got up and tried to push past the two troublemakers. “Get outta my way,” he demanded. The taller one with a face full of acne shoved him back down to his seat. 

“We’re gonna have a little fun here. Gallagher, isn't it?”

“Fuck you,” spat Ian. 

“Oh no, not fuck me...” He looked over towards the area of the cafeteria where the cashier sat, and Ian followed his line of site. _ Fuck, Mickey had made it through the line and was paying for his lunch. _

“Hey! Milkovich!” the douchebag called out. “Caught your boyfriend with his new man. Got anything to say about it?”

_ Shit_, Ian turned his head away from Mickey’s line of sight and looked down at the table, silently praying that Mickey would just ignore the ridiculous antics. 

Before he knew what was happening, Ian had been dragged over to the open area of the cafeteria. He looked up and caught a glimpse of the conflict on Mickey’s face. He seemed torn between wanting to walk away from what was going to be a bad scene versus standing up for himself. 

Mickey rolled his eyes at the two fuckwads who had Ian in their grasp. “Fuck off,” he told them.

“Your boyfriend was over there talking about sucking your cock. Or should we say ‘ex-boyfriend’ since he dumped you,” one of them taunted, pointing over to Shane, who had his tray in hand and clearly wasn’t planning on sticking around.

“You’re both fuckin’ morons. Get the fuck outta here. I wanna eat my lunch in peace.” A few of Mickey’s baseball buddies were standing around him now, curious to see what all the ruckus was about. 

“I knew it,” said one of the hateful goons. “Milkovich is a fuckin’ fag. Look at him try to shrug it off.” 

It was obvious to Ian that Mickey was about to lose it. Ian took a deep breath and opened his mouth, words spilling out before he could stop himself.

“Mickey Milkovich never fucked me,” he declared, shoving the hand of one of the basketball players away from his shoulder.

“Of course you’d say that to protect your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend? I can’t fuckin’ stand Milkovich. He’s been calling me a homo since the seventh grade.”

“C’mon, Gallagher, that’s not—” Mickey seemed wounded, and though he’d caught onto what Ian was trying to do, he didn’t seem exactly thrilled about going along with it. 

“In fact, you know what I say?” Ian stepped closer to Mickey and moved just inches away from his face. “Fuck you, you prick!” And then he did something that he was going to beat himself up about for weeks, but he decided it had to be done. Mickey was through with him anyway.

Ian shoved his hands against Mickey’s chest, causing him to stumble back, and he almost dropped his lunch tray. He steadied himself and handed the tray to one of his buddies, preparing to get into a defensive stance when Ian’s fist met the side of face, just below his eye. A crowd of students gathered around them as the cashier scuttled towards a nearby phone to alert the front office.

Ian lunged at a stunned Mickey and wrestled him to the ground, saying, just loud enough for Mickey to hear: “Now’s your chance.” 

The next few minutes were a blur. Ian resisted the urge to retaliate as Mickey kneed him in the stomach, flipped him on his back, and hovered over him, keeping Ian pinned to the ground. He raised his fist above his head, and it descended quickly, landing squarely against Ian’s right cheek, a flash of pain shooting through the side of his face, the taste of blood filling his mouth. Right before the teachers pushed through the crowd and hauled Mickey away, he delivered a hard kick to Ian’s side. 

Ian stayed on the ground as the crowd dispersed, a few people remaining beside him, reaching out their hands to help him on his feet. Ian was feeling a mix of pain and confusion and then oddly enough, triumph. At least they’d put on a good show, enough to convince people there was nothing between them. 

Maybe they could resume things sooner, get back together. The secret status of their relationship was restored. 

Ian wanted to believe, needed to believe that Mickey hadn’t really given up on them. He’d seen it under Mickey’s half-glare, as he had him pinned to the ground—something strange yet familiar, something akin to longing.

^^^^^^^^^^

Ian sat outside the principal's office, doubled over in pain. The school nurse had given him a quick once-over and an ice pack for his face. She diagnosed him with a bruised rib, said he should get things over with the principal and then go home to rest. Ian decided to stick around until the end of the day and try to make it through practice. 

He could hear voices on the other side of the door, one of them sounded like Mickey’s, followed by laughter that went on and on. Ian stood up when the door opened, and indeed, it was Mickey who’d been inside. A bruise had formed around his eye, and he avoided making eye contact with Ian. Principal Daniels patted him on the shoulder and gave Ian an awkward nod.

“Gallagher, isn’t it? Which one are you?”

Ian started to say his first name, remembering that Lip used to spend inordinate amounts of time in Mr. Daniels’ office, but then he learned to put his smarts to better uses than mouthing off to his teachers. 

“Nevermind,” said the principal, before Ian could respond. “Doesn’t matter. Milkovich has cleared all this up. You fellas try to stay out of trouble, huh? Lots of dicks around here.”

“Um, excuse me...sir?” Ian nearly choked, taken aback by the principal’s word choice. 

“You heard me, son. Dicks, losers. Whatever you kids are saying these days. Now go to your next class. Or, if you need to, go home.” He turned to Mickey, “Hope to see you on the field soon, Milkovich.”

“We’ll see, Mr. D,” Mickey pointed to his shoulder. “Still working on it.” 

Mickey breezed past Ian, quickening his pace as the redhead tried to catch up with him. The halls were empty since it was the middle of sixth period, and the only sound was the squeaking of their shoes against the waxy cement floors. 

“Mickey…wait up a sec.” 

“What the fuck do you want?” he growled, barely glancing over his shoulder.

“I guess we’re even now, huh?” asked Ian.

Mickey stopped abruptly and waited until Ian was close enough to shove him into the lockers. Ian winced, and gripped his side, but Mickey was unmoved. He stepped back, arms folded over his chest, his biceps bulging through his t-shirt. “_Even_? What the fuck does that mean?”

Ian stared back at him, partially glad that Mickey had acknowledged him but almost afraid to respond. “Well...you know, back in the cafeteria, I mean, no one’s gonna believe we’re together now. And you got us out of trouble with Mr. Daniels. So we’re...even.”

Mickey threw his hands up in the air and started walking down the hallway again.

Ian called out to him. “I don’t get a ‘thank you’ at least?” 

Mickey whirled around. “No. You get a ‘fuck you.’ There are a million other ways that situation coulda been handled better. You’re a dumbass.”

“Oh yeah?” Ian followed Mickey into the stairwell. “Like how?”

“Like, how about punching those two dipshits, instead of me? Now I gotta walk around with this shiner, makes me look real tough, everyone knowing I got punched in the face by the—”

“By the what?” demanded Ian. “The flaming queer? The president of the faggot club? What?” He wanted to hear exactly how Mickey referred to him in his circle of friends. 

“Fuck…” Mickey hung his head, and Ian really wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Fine. Which way could I have handled it...” Ian spoke in a hushed tone in case anyone was lurking above them. “...so that we could be together again?” He bit into his lip to keep it from trembling. “You haven’t left me with very many options...”

A pained look flashed over Mickey’s face. “Dunno. But making me look like some kind of bigot? C’mon, Ian. I’m not my father.”

“Okay. Maybe you’re not a gay basher, Mickey,” offered Ian “but you’re too damn deep in the closet to be any good to anyone.”

“Ha! The closet?” scoffed Mickey, a harshness in his tone returning. “This always comes back to you, right? I mean, fuck my life. Fuck my family, fuck what I wanna do!”

“Mickey…I just want to see you happy.”

“Then tell me, Ian. Enlighten me. Cuz I’d like to know how coming out as your boyfriend is gonna lead to my happiness.”

“No one’s asking you to, you prick,” retorted Ian. “Just...for God’s sake, be true to yourself.”

Mickey cracked his knuckles and let out a frustrated grunt, as if to keep himself from lunging at Ian. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts, on the brink of sharing something important, but the bell rang, and their fellow students would begin pouring into the hallways any second.

Mickey started up the steps with a determined gait, pausing at the middle landing and mumbling down to Ian, “See ya later...Red,” leaving Ian frozen in place as an onrush of hurried students surrounded him.

^^^^^^^^^^

That afternoon, Mr. Lishman gave Ian permission to sit in a chair during rehearsal, due to his injuries. It soon became apparent that Ian wasn’t any good to anyone—he was either sulking or grimacing in pain the entire time. Shane didn’t say anything about earlier, going through the motions and physically present but clearly distracted by what had happened during lunch. Lishman ended rehearsal early and told everyone to go home and try to put the events of the day behind them. 

On the way back to their neighborhood, Ian listened half-heartedly as Lip and Mandy plotted revenge on the two homophobic basketball players—Kyle and Kurt—Ian remembered now. Surprisingly, no one asked Ian why he’d gone after Mickey. Maybe they figured he knew Mickey wasn’t likely to hurt him—Lip, because he knew about their relationship, and Mandy because she’d seen Mickey rough-house with Ian but never try to harm him. 

Not that it mattered. Things were severely fucked, and Ian wasn’t in the mood to do anything but go home and crash in his room. Fuck everything else.

They reached Mandy’s house, and Lip promised to call her. Ian didn’t even bother checking the Milkovich house for signs of Mickey. 

On their way home, Lip was humming the super obnoxious chorus from “We Go Together”, probably trying to solicit a “shut up” from Ian, or anything to get him talking. Ian didn’t take the bait though, keeping his eyes on the cracks in the sidewalk until they arrived to their house. He pushed through the chain-link gate and held it open for his brother. Lip raced ahead of him, holding his arm up so Ian couldn’t pass him on the steps, finally evoking an outburst of laughter from the solemn redhead as he muttered “fucker” in retaliation.

As soon as they were inside, Ian headed up the stairs to his room but stopped in his tracks at the sound of loud and boisterous voices coming from the kitchen—one in particular. His mother, _ Monica._


	7. Chapter 7

“Lip! Ian!” Monica shouted excitedly, as if someone had tipped her off that they’d be the next ones to arrive home, which made sense given that Fiona worked until late and all the other Gallagher siblings were already gathered in the kitchen. Ian could hear Frank too, mumbling some bullshit about needing to be king of his castle again. Whenever Monica came around, Frank would follow, like a stray dog in search of his next meal.

Before either of them could speak, Monica was in the living room, pulling Lip into one of her arms and coaxing Ian down the stairs with her other. 

“I heard the news about the play! This is perfect timing. I can run lines with you and help you learn all of the songs!” Monica’s shoulder-length blonde hair was shiny and fluffy around her face, her smile stretched from ear to ear. 

_ If only all of the wonderful things that came out of her mouth were true. If only, if only she really was the kind of mother who was around to help her children with their homework and to be there to answer their little sister Debbie’s questions about becoming a teenager, or to cheer on their little brother Carl during his soccer games, or to take their youngest brother, Liam, to the pool for swimming lessons. If only… _

No, Ian wasn’t going to stick around for this bullshit. He knew he’d smelled spaghetti sauce when they’d walked in the door, which was Monica’s trademark “mommy’s home, please forgive me for being gone for months with no call or explanation” dinner so that they could pretend like they were a family. The thought made Ian sick to his stomach, and he headed back down the stairs, not into Monica’s open arms, but through the front door and as far from the house as his legs could carry him. The last thing he heard was Monica asking Lip about the bruise on Ian’s face. _ How considerate of her. _

It wasn’t quite dark outside yet and now that he’d put some distance between himself and his good-for-nothing parents, Ian was starting to get hungry. He decided to stop by the convenience store where he’d been working after school, though he’d scaled back to weekends until the show was over. 

His boss, Kash, was working the register and gave Ian a surprised smile when he saw Ian come inside. Thank God his wife, Linda, wasn’t around. She’d never let him take food without paying, even if he offered to bring the money the next day or asked her to take it out of his check. 

“Hey, Kash...can I -”

“Sure, go ahead,” Kash responded, already anticipating what Ian was going to say. 

“Thanks,” said Ian, tearing the corner off of a Snickers wrapper and biting off a huge chunk. 

“What happened to your face?”

“Nothing,” Ian mumbled as he chewed on the candy bar.

Kash didn’t look quite convinced, but Ian wasn’t in the mood to talk about the altercation from earlier in the day. He went to the back of the store to get a soda and a sandwich from the deli case, sensing that Kash was watching him in the security mirror, but not because he was worried about Ian stealing.

Ian had suspected for awhile that Kash had feelings for him, despite being married with children, an active leader in his mosque, and the fact that he was a good ten or twelve years older than the redhead. Every so often, he would ask Ian if he was seeing anyone and try to make small talk about what is was like to date guys. Ian thought it was cute in a sad sort of way. 

With food in hand, Ian approached the counter and nodded towards the empty stool behind the register. For the time being, Kash would do for company. It was just a matter of waiting for Monica and Frank to get drunk and abandon their offspring in search of more booze or drugs, and then Ian could sneak back into the house, undetected by them, and get some shut eye. He ignored the texts from Lip to come home and suffer along with everyone else. 

“How’s it going with rehearsals?” asked Kash, showing genuine interest, which Ian appreciated.

“Okay, I guess. We finished early today. I need to study my lines.” Ian pulled the script from his backpack. “Wanna see?”

“Sure.” Kash flipped through the pages as Ian devoured the sandwich and gulped down his soda. 

Kash handed the pages back to him. “Wait. I’m confused. Why did you highlight the lines for Sandy? She’s a _ she. _”

Ian smirked. “So you have seen _ Grease_? I could have sworn you told Linda otherwise.”

“Oh, well...you know, I’ve done a lot of things Linda doesn’t know about.” Kash turned away, embarrassed by what he’d just blurted out and seemingly thankful that a customer came inside to purchase cigarettes.

After the patron was gone, Ian explained to Kash about Mandy convincing him to come to auditions and the vision the drama teacher had and how Ian was going to go through with it, despite potential backlash, because after all was said and done, he wanted to do the show. Ian didn’t say this to Kash, but he felt a touch of nostalgia, thinking about how the music from _ Grease _ reminded him of happier times with his mother.

“That takes guts, Ian. Maybe we can come see the show. Well, me, anyway. You know Linda—ultra conservative to a fault. And anytime you want to run lines, I can help you.”

“Thanks, Kash. That’s really nice.” 

Ian stuck around for another couple of hours. He helped Kash restock the shelves, and finished up some homework. Mandy texted him to see if he was okay. She mentioned how she’d laid into Mickey for his shitty behavior. Ian said “thanks,” not wanting to go into it further. He didn’t mention Monica being back either, figuring that Lip had already texted her. 

Around 10:00pm, Ian gathered his belongings, snagged an apple for the road, and thanked Kash for letting him hang out. 

“Anytime,” Kash said warmly. There was a sadness in his eyes. Ian knew he was lonely and possibly living a lie. His heart went out to him.

Over the next few days, Ian decided to take Kash up on his offer to help him run lines. Shane had backed off from hanging out with Ian after what happened at lunch. And Ian wasn’t in the mood to hang out with Mandy and Lip. He was happy that they were back together, hoping things would work out for them, but he was still feeling the sting of his loss over Mickey.

Monica seemed determined to stick around for awhile, raving about how much she wanted to be there to cheer Ian and Lip on. She had a girlfriend now, a woman named “Bob”, who was a trucker who traveled during the week. This was another way Monica tried to bond with Ian, referring constantly to her struggles as a lesbian. Frank just laughed about Monica’s new-found love interest or made disgusting innuendos about having a threesome while Fiona and Lip, like Ian, tried to avoid this temporary reprieve of their shithead parents as much as possible. 

For Ian, the aptly named “Kash and Grab” was as good an escape as any, even with Linda prowling through on occasion and huffing at Kash for not minding the store and letting Ian know he was not on the clock and would not be getting paid just for hanging around.

One Saturday evening, Ian and Kash were practicing the scene from _ Grease _ that takes place at the movie theater drive-in, a few days after the school dance-off where Danny and Chachi ended up winning because Sandy was tricked into separating from Danny. 

They were seated next to each other on the counter stools. Kash had his arm around Ian for extra effect and was reading Danny’s lines. 

** _Danny:_ ** _ Why don’t you move a little closer? _

** _Sandy: _ ** _ This is all right. _

** _Danny:_ ** _ Well, can’t you at least smile or something? Look, Sandy I practically had to bust Kenickie’s arm to get his car for tonight. I told you on the phone I was sorry. _

** _Sandy:_ ** _ I know you did. _

** _Danny:_ ** _ Well, you believe me, don’t you? _

** _Sandy:_ ** _ I guess so, it’s just that everything was so much easier when it was just the two of us. _

** _Danny: _ ** _ Hey, you’re not with another guy, are you? _

** _Sandy:_ ** _ No. Why? _

** _Danny: _ ** _ Err... oh... no reason… _

Kash laughed as he pretended to struggle taking his wedding band off, using it as a prop, and then resuming Danny’s lines. 

** _Danny: _ ** _ I was going to ask you to take my ring. _

** _Sandy:_ ** _ Oh, Danny...I don’t know what to say. _

** _Danny: _ ** _ Well, you want it, don’t you? _

** _Sandy: _ ** _ Uh, huh. _

** _Danny: _ ** _ I should have given it to you a long time ago. I really like you Sandy. _

They grew quiet for a few seconds as the door to the store opened, the bell jingling. A couple of people came inside and headed towards the back. Once they were out of site, Kash put the ring on Ian’s finger. They’d never been this close before, and Ian closed his eyes, drawing in his breath. He missed being touched. 

Kash nudged him. “It’s your line. I’m supposed to be groping you, I think, but we should probably skip that part. I mean, unless you want me to…” Kash put his hands on Ian’s shoulders.

“Oh...right. Yeah, I forgot about that. Just...uh, leave your hands there. That should work.” Ian read the next line. 

** _Sandy:_ ** _ Danny, take it easy! What are you trying to do? _

** _Danny: _ ** _ What’s the matter? _

** _Sandy:_ ** _ Well, I mean...I thought we were just going to – you know – be steadies. _

** _Danny: _ ** _ Well, what do you think going steady is, anyway? Come on, Sandy! _

Kash had his arms around Ian now, holding him loosely as he feigned breaking free. Ian could feel both of their hearts pounding against their chests, and Kash’s breath on his neck. The whole thing was starting to feel a little too real, though Ian appreciated Kash’s commitment to helping him get the scene right.

** _Sandy:_ ** _ Stop it! I’ve never seen you like this. _

** _Danny:_ ** _ Relax, will you, nobody’s watching us! _

** _Sandy:_ ** _ Danny, please, you’re hurting me! _

All of a sudden, there was a clamour in front of them, and an arm came across the counter, grabbing Kash by the collar. 

“What the fuck is _ this_?” growled a very pissed-off looking Mickey. He’d slammed a six pack of beer down and now had Kash’s face pressed against the counter, his elbow grinding into his back. Ian was too stunned to do anything more than stammer out an explanation. 

“L-let him go! We were rehearsing a scene from the play!” Ian came unfrozen and pushed some of the display boards out of the way, jumped over the counter, and tried to pry Mickey off of Kash.

“Mickey! C’mon! Enough!”

There were a few customers watching from the aisles, and at least one of them appeared to be calling the police. 

Mickey slowly released Kash and stepped back with his hands in the air. “Didn’t anyone else hear that? He told you to stop, and you didn’t!” Mickey pointed his finger at Kash and then looked around for someone to back him up. 

Ian shook his head and turned to the small crowd. “Sorry, folks. Simple misunderstanding. We were just running lines for my school play. Nothing to get excited about.” 

Kash was trying to catch his breath while Ian went back around the counter. Mickey seemed stunned himself now and threw down a ten dollar bill for the beer. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. Mickey nodded towards Ian, a nod that used to excite him. But in this instance, Ian couldn’t be sure if he was using their signal. “I’m leaving, Red. Relax,” he said gruffly before walking out the door. 

“Did that just happen?” asked Ian quietly under his breath before he turned around to check on Kash. “You alright?”

Kash nodded, straightening his shirt collar. “Fucking Milkovich. Tell him he’s banned from now on. He can get his booze somewhere else.”

“O-okay, Kash. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. That kid is mental.” Kash started ringing up the other customers as Ian picked up the items that had gotten knocked over. He tucked his script away into his backpack and asked Kash if he could leave early. _ Fuck, what a mess. _


	8. Chapter 8

Ian raced over to the baseball field, sprinting carelessly over the cracks in the sidewalk, hoping that Mickey had gone to the field after leaving the Kash and Grab. The night sky was dark enough to mask him scaling the fence, but Ian made a thumping sound as he landed on the other side. Per the usual protocol, he surveyed the area to make sure there was no one around to notice. Well, no one except... 

Ian heard the clanging noise of an empty beer can being tossed onto a pile of more empty beer cans, and it was coming from the home team dugout. 

Nearing the space, he could see someone inside, stretched out on the bench. His heart fluttered, the same way it always did when Mickey was in view, or in this case his silhouette, just visible from the glow of the nearby streetlamp. Ian walked towards him, hands fumbling in the pockets of his jacket, unsure about what to say. 

“Hey, Mick.”

Mickey turned his head slightly. “So,” he said in a slurred voice, “what’s the deal with you and Mohammed?”

Ian should have anticipated the snide comment. “Shut up! Like I told you, Kash has been helping me with my lines.”

“Helping you...with his hands all over you?” Mickey spat against the ground and managed to slide his back up against the wall. 

“That’s part of the scene—him grabbing me...at the drive-in...when Danny gets too handsy. And Sandy slams the door on his crotch.” Ian realized he was rambling. “Anyway...what were you doing there? You knew I’d be working. Were you spying on me?” He kicked at the dirt on the ground of the dugout, punctuating his accusatory tone. 

“Beer,” Mickey shot back. “I wanted beer...and the Kash and Grab is the only place I can get it.” 

“That’s bullshit. Anyone will sell to you, Mr. Big Shot. You wanted to see me. Just admit it.” 

“Well...it’s a good thing I got there when I did. Now I know how you’ve been spending your free time.”

Ian glared back at him. He had never thought of Mickey as the jealous type. Besides, he had no right to have any say in what Ian did or didn’t do.

“Me? What _ I’ve _ been doing? What about your plan to ‘fuck some bitch’? Remember, you needed a cover story, so people wouldn’t think we were together?”

“Calm the fuck down, would ya? I didn’t fuck anyone else.” Mickey reached into the darkened corner next to him and held out a beer towards Ian. “Take one. I’m celebrating.”

_ Leave it to Mickey to try to distract him with alcohol. _Ian begrudgingly took the can from Mickey and popped it open, throwing back a huge gulp. “What are you celebrating?”

“Sit down.” Mickey pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket and waited until Ian was seated next to him before smoothing it out and handing it to him. “Here. Read it.”

Ian pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight, shining the beam over what appeared to be a letter. 

_ Dear Mr. Milkovich, _

_ We are pleased to inform you that you’ve been accepted to… _

“Is this...what I think it is?” Ian had to read the first few sentences again to be sure. 

Mickey nodded. 

“But how...I thought these don’t come out until the spring?”

Mickey sat up proudly and took the paper back from Ian. “Early decision. I got Lip to help me with my application and my personal essay. Wrote about my injury last year and growing up without my mom and all the shit that goes down in our neighborhood and how my older brothers are all in prison. And I guess they liked it, because they want me, Ian. Somebody fuckin’ wants me...” His voice trailed off. 

“That’s great.” Something stirred inside of Ian, seeing Mickey like this. “This school’s in Florida...can you afford it?” 

“Might be eligible for a partial scholarship if I keep my grades up. And they’ve got a decent baseball team. The scout’ll be up in a few months when we start the season. And fuck...I’ll take out student loans. I mean, I gotta get the fuck outta here, ya know?”

Ian’s mind was racing, his thoughts clouded by the jarring reality that Mickey would be leaving him, really leaving him. At the same time, he wanted to be happy for him. “Yeah...it’s time.”

“And we have a cousin down there, from my mom’s side, so I’ll have a place to stay,” Mickey added. 

“Have you told Mandy?”

“I think she’s with your dickhead of a brother, so not yet. That’s why I, uh...that’s why I went to find you at the store. And for the beer…”

“Oh.” 

“Plus, I wanted to know how things were healing up.” Mickey reached over and brushed his thumb against Ian’s cheek, the one he’d bruised during their fight. He let his hand fall to Ian’s shoulder.

“It’s fine. I’m...fine.” 

“Yeah? Well, I heard your mom was in town,” Mickey said. “I was worried she might be fuckin’ with your head.” 

Ian let out a breath he’d been holding in. He wanted so badly to tell Mickey everything, just let the floodgates open about how anxious he was about the play and how lost he’d been feeling and how he wished he had a relationship with his mother, but that he was too afraid to lose her again. And now he was facing the threat of losing Mickey for good. 

Ian could feel Mickey slipping away from him already, knowing he’d be leaving soon, as though he was practically gone. 

He pushed Mickey’s hand away and stood up abruptly. “I’m...I’m happy for you. If there’s anything I can do...anything so that you can get out of here…”

“Ian, I need you to know something…”

Ian shook his head and moved towards the opening of the dugout. “It’s okay, Mick. I get it. You don’t have to say anything.” His voice was shaky, and he could feel tears welling up behind his eyes. He needed to be somewhere else, anywhere else. 

Mickey started to get up but stumbled, clearly drunk off his ass, which made it easier for Ian to get away before Mickey could stop him. He jumped the fence and ran towards home. 

_ Good for Mickey_. He had to give him credit for sticking his neck out there. Accepting tutoring from Lip was one thing, but putting into words all the shit he’d been through and letting Lip and a college admissions office read them? That took some guts, considering how closed off Mickey had been his whole life. 

He’d had the right idea though—getting the fuck out of this place. Lip was gonna get out, no problem. And Ian had a back-up plan if his prospects for college were looking dim—joining the Army. 

_ Hell_, wondered Ian, _ maybe I should quit the play, focus more on my grades and getting back into JROTC. Why the fuck am I wasting my time with this bullshit? My singing is mediocre at best...and my dancing—even more of a disaster. I don’t need to be a poster child for a movement. I need to get my life back on track. _

Right before he opened the gate to the house, Ian had made the decision to tell Mandy that she and Lishman would have to find themselves another Sandy. 

^^^^^^^^^^

But someone beat Ian to the punch. When Lip and Ian met up with Mandy at school on Monday, her eyes were red and puffy, and she immediately blurted out, “Shane’s quitting! He says he can’t deal with the pressure. What a pussy! The whole show’s ruined!”

Lip consoled her, reassuring her that they’d find a replacement, while Ian silently debated whether to go ahead and quit too, putting everyone out of their misery. Or should he wait out the eventual failure of the show and at least avoid hurting his best friend?

Before Ian had a chance to say anything, Mandy had an epiphany. “Mickey! Of course! Mickey can do it! Guys! I forgot to tell you—he got accepted to a small liberal arts college in Florida! He gets to coast for the rest of his senior year now, so he can totally do the play!” 

“Mandy,” Ian said sternly. He felt Lip’s eyes on him, trying to figure out if he already knew about the college thing. “That’s great news about Mickey, but he probably still has a shot at scholarships. He can’t just ‘coast.’ And besides, he doesn’t _ want _ to do the play, not the way it’s written, not playing a gay dude!”

Ian was shouting at this point, leaving Mandy quiet, at least, momentarily before she decided to ignore his outburst.

“Whatever. I’m asking him anyway.” 

Ian watched over Mandy’s shoulder as she texted her brother: _ We need a Danny Zuko, or this whole thing is gonna get canceled! Come to practice this afternoon. Please!!!!! _

“There. Done,” declared Mandy. “Think he’ll come?”

Lip shrugged, but Ian shook his head adamantly. “Not a snowball’s chance in hell. You’re forgetting the biggest deterrent of all—Terry would skin him alive.”

“Fuck Terry,” said Mandy matter-of-factly. “That shithead is hardly ever around, and when he is, he doesn’t pay attention to what we’re doing.” She put her phone to her ear. “I’m gonna call Mickey and beg him, or promise him my first born, or whatever it takes.”

“Your first born?” Ian chuckled, in spite of how shitty he was feeling. A part of him still wanted Mickey to do the show with him. 

“Listen...Mandy. I was thinking, maybe we should just...you know, call the whole thing off.” Ian glanced over at Lip, hoping for some back-up from him, but getting none. “Tell Lishman you want to do _ Rent_. I just think it’ll be better for everyone. Then I can go back to—”

“No, no. No! You’re not bailing too. I know Mickey isn’t your favorite person after what happened last week, but he would do a really good job and…” 

Ian nodded along. It didn’t matter what he said—Mandy was not relenting on this one. 

She told Ian goodbye and wandered down the hall, pulling Lip along with her, muttering something about how badass Mickey would look in a leather jacket and how that might be a way to convince him.

Ian finished up his day in a haze, wondering how long it would take for Mandy to give up on her brother doing the show, how maybe the whole thing was doomed from the start. He should have insisted on playing a T-bird and then Karen Jackson could have had her glory as Sandy. 

Ian had to drag himself over to the auditorium. He went inside and found a seat near the front, spotting Lip but no Mandy. Lishman was talking to the rest of the cast, who had gathered in the front, and he gave Ian a grateful smile, maybe because Mandy had told him Ian was having doubts about continuing with the show. 

Ian turned his attention to the suggestions being tossed around by the other cast members to fill Shane’s abandoned part. When someone called out Lip’s name to play Danny, Ian and his brother both groaned in disgust.

“Don’t you think gay_ Grease _is shocking enough,” Lip declared. “We don’t need an incest theme too.”

Ian chimed in. “Can we stop calling it _ gay Grease_?’ It’s just _ Grease _. But yeah, I’m not kissing my brother in the final act.”

Whoever had made the suggestion apologized profusely. Then there was talk about changing Ian as the lead and doing the musical in its original format. Lishman shook his head. “Nope. It’s this way or no way.”

After a few more minutes of useless banter, Lishman called them all to the stage to run through the musical numbers, but there was little enthusiasm in their voices. He ended practice early, promising to begin recruiting for the lead in other nearby schools in the district, that the vision he’d imagined was too important to abandon. He said they’d move the performance dates if they needed more time. 

Mandy finally arrived, slowly moving down the aisle with a look of defeat plastered all over her face. Lip had gathered his things and joined Mandy, motioning for Ian to come along with them. 

But Ian stayed seated on the edge of the stage, his long legs dangling in front of him. He turned to Mandy. “What did he say?”

Mandy smirked briefly. “You can pretty much guess.”

“Yeah. I figured.”

“Come with us, lil bro,” said Lip as he took Mandy’s hand. 

_ How sweet. They were back together and going public with it. _

“Thanks, but I’ll stick around and practice my solo. Found an instrumental version on YouTube.”

“You sure?” asked Lip. “We’re gonna grab an ice cream float somewhere and run our lines. Might as well keep practicing like this thing is gonna happen. I betcha Lishman will come up with a way to replace Shane.”

“I’m fine here. Thanks though.”

Mandy blew Ian a kiss goodbye, a look of concern in her furrowed brow. He knew from her expression that she was less worried about the play and more worried about him. At some point, he’d need to tell her about him and Mickey. 

Ian, now alone in the auditorium, sat silently on the stage for several minutes. He was trying to picture the auditorium full of people. He imagined his LGBTQ group seated in one corner, smiling and holding up signs of support.

Ian flipped through his sheet music until he found his solo: _ Hopelessly Devoted To You_. He reviewed the lyrics a few times, though he’d been listening to the song on repeat for weeks. He’d read somewhere that the song was added post-production since the filmmakers determined a ballad was needed for dramatic effect, and it ended up being one of the most popular songs from the entire movie. 

Sandy sang it in the front yard of her friend Frenchy’s house after the slumber party with the Pink Ladies fell apart, and more importantly, after a Danny Zuko sighting and more rejection for poor, sweet Sandy. 

_ Guess mine is not the first heart broken _

_ My eyes are not the first to cry _

_ I'm not the first to know there's _

_ Just no getting over you..._

Ian hoped he could do the song justice. Instead of a slumber party, Lishman had come up with the idea of Sandy hanging out at the mall with the Pink Ladies, deciding to cut the “Look at me, I’m Sandra Dee” song that Rizzo sang. Mandy was pretty bummed about that one, but she got a kick out of what Lishman had come up with instead. Everyone would be trying on clothes, and Ian, as the male Sandy, would come out of the dressing room in a boy band get-up that he’d picked out to wear to the dance-off. The girls would nod at him politely, but when Sandy went to change, Rizzo would break into a chorus of “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys and pass fedoras out to everyone. Lishman figured all the parents in the crowd would get a kick out of that one. 

While Ian was humming the lyrics to his solo under his breath, he heard the door to the auditorium slam close. He didn’t look up at first, figuring it was someone from the cast who’d forgotten something. 

When he realized who the familiar figure was approaching him, Ian’s heart practically stopped beating. _ Mickey. _


	9. Chapter 9

“Y-you? What are you doing here?” Ian managed to get out. 

Mickey looked at him sheepishly and scratched the side of his face. He glanced around the auditorium, ignoring the look of pure shock on Ian’s face. “Where is everyone?”

“Uh...they’re gone for the day. But why? Why are you here?” Ian was trying his best not to get his hopes up, but if Mickey was actually considering doing the show… 

“Wanted to talk to you.” Mickey stood a few feet in front of him, his expression stoic as he maintained the distance between them, as if the closer he got to Ian, the less likely he’d be able to maintain his composure. “Mandy says you might quit the show, says she’s worried about you.” 

“Yeah, well. I was thinking about taking a page out of your book, and concentrating on my future. You know, not worrying about pleasing anyone else.”

“That makes sense. But you can still do the show…if it’s what you want to do,” Mickey reminded him. 

“Kinda hard without a leading man. Seems like we’ve run out of willing participants. Seems like I can’t find a ‘show’ boyfriend,” Ian added glumly, “or one in real life.”

Mickey moved closer to him. “Huh. Well...maybe I could do something about that.”

Ian raised his eyebrows and met Mickey’s slight grin. “You gonna force one of the freshman baseball recruits to play Danny? That’d be a great way to haze someone.”

“No, dummy...I’m gonna do it. I don’t have any fucks left to give around here.” Mickey had closed the distance between them, resting his hand on top of Ian’s. “If you’re okay with it, that is…”

“I don’t know,” Ian sighed, trying to mask the jolt that went through him when Mickey touched his hand. “You’ve got other priorities to focus on. What about your training?”

“I’m gonna bust my ass to do it all. What’ve I got to lose?”

“Okay.” Ian was jumping for joy on the inside and trying to keep his cool. “But what about the other thing…”

“Thing?”

“You know. The real life thing…me and you?” 

“Oh. That.” Mickey pulled his hand back to his side. “Can we wait and see? You know, ease back into it...”

“Doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice.” Ian figured this was all Mickey could give him for the moment. It was more than what he’d given him before. He knew he had to take it. 

Mickey pointed to the papers Ian was still holding. “That the script?”

“It’s the music.” Ian had rolled the sheets nervously in his hands.

“Mind if I have a look?” 

“Go ahead.” 

Ian watched as Mickey hoisted himself onto the stage and situated himself so they were next to each other, knees bumping, a spark igniting between them from the contact, as he pulled the sheets of music from Ian’s hands.

Mickey began thumbing through the pages and laughing at some of the lyrics. “This is gonna be interesting. And I’d have a solo. _ Alone at a Drive-in._ Is this the scene you were rehearsing with, uh, what’s his name?”

Ian nodded. “Well, the scene right before...when Danny’s being a dick, you know, pressuring Sandy to put out since he’d given her his class ring.”

Mickey slowly moved his arm around Ian’s waist. “So...we’re sitting like this...and I’m coming onto you…”

“Mickey…” Ian nudged his arm away, not feeling like recreating that particular scene after what had happened at the Kash and Grab. 

“What?” Mickey put the papers down next to him. Hearing no response, he leaned over to whisper to Ian. “I’ve missed you, you know. Guess I’ve been kind of a dick myself.”

“You had your reasons,” offered Ian, trying his damndest to appear nonchalant.

“So...what do you think? Want me as your leading man? It might be kinda fun.”

“Not sure,” murmured Ian softly, turning his face so that his lips were just a breath away from Mickey’s. He wanted to kiss him so badly, but he knew that was asking too much. Instead, a loud belly laugh escaped from him lips, surprising both of them. 

“You laughing at me, Red?”

“No. Not exactly. It’s just...the way you said..._leading man._” Ian was laughing uncontrollably now, his hand over his stomach, trying to catch his breath. Ordinarily, Mickey would have been fuming, but he seemed happy that Ian had let his guard down. 

Once he got control of himself, Ian swatted at Mickey’s arm. “I missed you too. Asshole.”

“Oh yeah...what exactly did you miss?”

_ Fucking Mickey, _ thought Ian, _ rolling his tongue over his lips, being fucking irresistable. He knew exactly what he was doing. _

“You know. This and that.” Ian ran a finger up the inseam of Mickey’s jeans, causing the brunet to draw in his breath.

_ It had been too fucking long. _Right then and there, Ian decided he wasn’t going to bother hiding the fact that he wanted to be with Mickey, that they needed to make up for lost time. 

“Can we…” Ian nodded towards the curtains behind them, remembering the worn out couch backstage—the perfect place for them to get reacquainted. 

“Fuck, yeah,” nodded Mickey, his eyes gleaming as both of them clambered over to the back corner of the stage and pushed through the curtains. Ian grabbed Mickey’s arm and led him over to the sofa, pushing him on his back and straddling him as he fumbled to get Mickey’s jeans undone. 

Mickey tried to sit up, protesting the way Ian had him pinned down. 

“Hey, Red...what if we—” Mickey was probably expecting the usual, with Ian going at him from behind, but Ian had a few other ideas. 

“You okay if I call the shots this time?” 

“Uh…”

“I’ll take real good care of you.”

“What are you gonna—”

“No kissing on the lips. I promise. Maybe some licking, pinching...ass slapping. Think you’re up for it?” 

While Mickey was considering his suggestion, Ian had managed to coax him out of his t-shirt. He sat back on his knees and took in the sight of Mickey’s bare chest and the dusting of soft dark hair that started in the middle of his chest and formed a trail that ran underneath his boxers. 

Mickey’s breathing was slow and pronounced, his chest moving up and down as Ian ghosted fingers over his naked torso, a rare treat for Ian and never before in the daytime, dim as it was backstage. 

“Ian...let’s fuck,” crooned Mickey, beginning to tug at Ian’s waistband as the redhead pulled his own shirt over his head. 

“Be patient,” he whispered back, pressing his chest against Mickey’s, both of them shuddering, and Ian noticed that Mickey was almost starting to relax. 

He began devouring Mickey’s neck, nipping and sucking as he moaned softly in response, pressing his erection against Ian’s thigh and wriggling out of his jeans. 

Mickey was trying to get Ian’s pants undone, but Ian stopped him, pulling Mickey’s hands behind his head and holding them there as he moved his lips slowly over the outline of his collar bone. The brunet squirmed as Ian caressed one of his nipples with his fingers, dragging his tongue down over the other, feeling it harden against the pressure he was applying. 

“Fuck. Why are you torturing me?” groaned Mickey, his eyes meeting Ian’s. Ian moved his mouth promptly to Mickey’s other nipple, repeating the same motion and releasing a soft laugh in response to his question. 

“Being a bit dramatic, aren’t we?” he mused, lowering his kisses down the middle of Mickey’s abdomen, taking pleasure in the fact that he could kiss Mickey anywhere he liked, just not on the lips. 

_ Stupid rule_, thought Ian, _ I’ll show him_.

“Don’t you think we should fuck now?” Mickey’s voice had a pleading undertone. “What if someone walks in?”

“Just a few more minutes.” Ian was on his knees now, his hands moving down Mickey’s sturdy frame. “God, this body,” he growled, jerking Mickey’s jeans and boxers down in one swift motion, wrapping his hand solidly around his cock. Mickey groaned as Ian stroked him and used his tongue to lap up the glistening precum from the tip of his cock. 

“Mmmmm...Mick. It’s been too long.” Ian hollowed his cheeks as he pushed Mickey’s cock deep into his mouth.

“Jesus, Ian.” Mickey curled his fingers into Ian’s hair, bucking his hips upwards in tandem with Ian’s rhythmic bobbing. “You b-better get on me before I…”

“Before you what?” asked Ian as he popped his lips from the head of Mickey’s cock.

“You know...come.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“Yeah, but I want you inside me when I do...” 

Those were the magic words for Ian. He let Mickey pull him close enough to be able to undo his pants. “Tell me you have lube,” Mickey whispered and forced his hands under the waistband of Ian’s boxers, digging his fingers into his ass before pushing everything down far enough to free Ian’s cock. He lined up both of their dicks and massaged them together, causing Ian to moan loudly. 

“Shhhhh!” hissed Mickey, his hand reluctantly letting go of Ian’s cock as he began to position himself on the couch, ass in the air. He directed Ian to “pound him” good and hard.

Ian spread Mickey open and gently traced a finger along the dark pink, furled skin of his opening. This was another part of Mickey Ian wasn’t privy to seeing most of the time.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” muttered Mickey.

“Really?”

“No dumbass. Fuck me.” 

Ian laughed and slapped Mickey square on the ass. “Fine, but only after I get you prepped, Mr. Tough Guy. You’re too pretty for me to just rip into.” Ian coated a few of his fingers liberally with the contents of the packet of lube he’d pulled from his jeans and slid a finger inside of Mickey, noticing how tight he was and giving him a second to adjust to the sensation. 

Mickey wasn’t satisfied with the slow pace. “Another one,” he demanded. 

Ian complied, pressing another finger inside while rubbing his cock against Mickey’s ass cheek, the anticipation of being inside of him mounting. 

He would have liked more foreplay with Mickey, but at least he’d been able to get away with more than usual. His mind drifted back to the very recent memory of a naked Mickey spread across the sofa on his back. Ian gripped the base of his cock, trying to stave off his orgasm.

He decided to give Mickey what he wanted, what they both needed. He used the remainder of the lube on his cock, lining it up to Mickey’s hole and slowly sinking the tip inside, feeling the clenching of his muscles around him, moaning as he pushed his cock further inside. Mickey grunted but then gave Ian the nod to go ahead, the tension in his body snapping and morphing into something fiery as Ian bottomed out. 

Ian began to pound into him, just as Mick had requested. With each thrust, they were both mumbling incoherently, Ian’s fingers digging into his lover’s pale flesh, his head thrown back in ecstasy. He did Mickey the courtesy of tapping him on the back when he was nearly ready to shoot his load, but the warning wasn’t really necessary since Mickey had sense enough to recognize that Ian was about to climax, based on his convulsing body and stilted moans. 

Mickey must have been close too, pumping his dick a few times before coming into his balled up shirt. He cried out, shuddering as Ian gripped him tightly around the waist to feel the aftershocks of his climax, launching into his own orgasm, floating high on a mix of pleasure and his heart achingly happy.

Ian remained on top of Mickey, his chest pressed into Mickey’s back, slick with sweat, probably longer than the brunet would have preferred, but he let Ian have his way.

Ian eventually slumped back onto the sofa on his side, pulling Mickey down with him. He kissed Mickey lightly on the shoulder before gathering their things from the floor.

Feeling Mickey’s eyes on him, Ian asked, ”You okay?”

Mickey stretched an arm out. “Come back.”

Ian didn’t need to be told twice as he practically leaped into Mickey’s arms. “Fuck, that was amazing.”

”Yeah, it was,” agreed Mickey, burrowing his lips into Ian’s back.

“You got an extra shirt, Mick? If not, I can grab you something off the rack.” He gestured to the costumes they’d begun to gather for the show.

“Got an extra shirt in my locker.”

“I’ll get it,” Ian offered. “Just give me a few minutes to recover.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

After a few minutes, Ian reluctantly got up and pulled his clothes back on. Mickey hopped into his boxers and jeans and wandered over to the rack of costumes. He looked so sexy, shirtless with his ass filling out his jeans perfectly. Ian was nearly getting hard all over again. He resisted the urge to approach Mickey, though he badly wanted to hold him.

“This one mine?” Mickey asked. He pulled out a plain leather jacket from the rack, which still needed the T-birds emblem added. 

“Could be. Looks like your size.” Ian gave him an encouraging nod. “You sure you’re up for all this?” 

Mickey placed the jacket back where he’d found it and continued thumbing through the other garments. 

He finally turned around to face Ian. “You know...anything’s gotta be better than being without you.”


	10. Chapter 10

With rehearsals after school every day and Mickey getting up at the crack of dawn to train, there was very little “dugout” time, as Ian liked to call it. He actually preferred their “backstage” time, though it had morphed into something different with daily rehearsals. Ian and Mickey were discovering a new and unexpectedly enjoyable kind of togetherness. Just being together.

There was regular rehearsal with the entire cast and special choreography classes where a group of cast members had to learn their routines for the dance-off scene. And Lishman made arrangements to meet up with Ian and Mickey on Saturday mornings to practice their big “You’re the One That I Want” duet. 

When all was said and done with the script and song rewrites—which Lishman had secured permission to do—Mickey had one stipulation. _ No kissing. _ It didn’t surprise Ian, though he was disappointed. The extremely lame compromise was a quick peck on the cheek that Danny would give Sandy at the end of the play. Lishman seemed to be holding out hope for Mickey to change his mind. 

“What’s the big deal?” he asked Mickey during one of their Saturday rehearsals.

“It’s personal, okay?”

Mr. Lishman pushed back. “It’s acting, and it’s no different from anything else you’re doing. I mean, you’re not a greaser in real life, but you’re playing one. And even if you’re not gay…”

Ian had to stifle a laugh when Lishman said “if”. He had to suspect that Mickey was gay, or at the very least, he wasn’t blind to the fact that the two of them had more going on than just show chemistry.

Rumors about Mickey and Ian started again around school, but this time, Mickey faced them head on. He threatened anyone who said anything derogatory in his presence, and he left a pre-emptive message for Kurt and Kyle, slashing the tires on both of their cars. Whether he meant to or not, Mickey seemed to be making a statement about respecting people’s lifestyles, whatever their preference. Even his baseball buddies were supportive, vowing to be at every show so that they could “bounce” anyone who showed any disruptive behavior. If a macho jock wanted to sing and dance as the gay male lead in a high school musical, nobody better have a problem with it. 

Mickey’s acceptance letter to college had changed something in him and given him hope that he wasn’t the piece of garbage his father always called him. That and realizing how much he missed being with Ian. Or so he said, promising they’d stay in touch while he was in Florida and see each other as often as they could.

Ian wanted to believe Mickey. He hoped they had a future, more than what they had “behind the scenes.” Ian figured that the biggest factor keeping Mickey from being completely open about their relationship was dealing with the fallout from Terry. Mandy, anticipating that Terry might get wind of Mickey’s involvement in the show, had mentioned to her father that Mickey was helping with the set design.

“No son of mine is gonna fag it up in the theater,” he declared, to which Mandy reminded him that they needed big, strong guys to change out the sets between scenes. That was one of the duties Mickey had agreed to take on, just not the primary one. They had to make sure Terry stayed oblivious to the theme changes in the show and the performance dates. 

This wasn’t as easy as they’d hoped since Lishman had been giving interviews to the local press and dealing with calls from members of the school board, who were not entirely comfortable with the changes to the show. He was prepared to move the show to the community theater if the Board members tried to force him to alter it. Most of the backlash died down when all five of their scheduled performances had nearly sold out—the interest from their peers, teachers, and the community apparent. 

The closer they got to dress rehearsal days, the later Ian was staying up to practice his lines. At the start of the week, he fell asleep on the couch in the Gallagher family living room, script still in hand, when someone plopped down next to him. 

“Ian! Here you are,” exclaimed a high-pitched female voice. 

It was Monica, clearly high on something and just back from a weekend getaway with Bob. Everyone had taken bets that she wouldn’t be coming back, and they’d all lost. 

Ian regretted not having gone to bed in his room, or somewhere less accessible to unwanted visitors. So far, he’d managed to keep his interactions with Monica to a minimum, and it pained him to see her being so loving towards his younger siblings, fearing she was setting them up for major heartbreak.

“What time is it?” He yawned and stretched his arms in the air, ready to excuse himself, when she laid her head against his shoulder.

“It’s just after midnight, my sweet boy.” Monica’s hair had a flowery scent, pleasant but deceiving. Ian could tell she’d been drinking on top of whatever else she’d taken. He also noticed Frank passed out on the floor near the door. 

“I’m so excited about seeing your show! Maybe Bob will come too. You’d really like her. She’s very, you know, out...not at all shy about being a lesbian.”

“Yeah, that’s great. But you’ll have to stick around a few more weeks. Think you can do it?” 

Monica turned her head to look up at him curiously. “Well, of course...I thought I was clear before. I’m here to stay.” 

Ian smirked. “Right. You’ve finally decided to do the ‘mom thing,’ huh? Just waltz right in after all these years and try to take credit for everything we’ve done...especially Fiona. She’s been working extra shifts so I can do the show. What have you done for this family?”

Monica shifted away from him and responded defensively, “I’m not trying to take credit for a goddamn thing! I just want to spend time with my kids, is all. You’ve really soured, ya know? Not sure what happened to my pumpkin, but I wish you’d get the fuckin’ stick out of your ass!”

Ian stood up and fired back. “And I wish you’d been a mother to us when you had the chance, but clearly, we all don’t get everything we wish for...do we?” 

He whirled around and stormed upstairs to his room, stick in his ass and all, crawling into his bed and punching a fist into his pillow.

_ What if she meant it? About sticking around. And what if he was missing out on time with her now, holding onto his bitterness, instead of giving her another chance? _

Ian needed to talk to someone. He looked at the time on his phone. It was well after midnight, but he texted Mickey anyway. 

_ Can you talk? I need to see you. _

He figured it was a long shot that Mickey would still be awake since he had to get up early to workout, but a few minutes later, Ian got a response. 

_ Meet at 5am. Our spot? If that’s too long to wait, hit me back. We’ll figure something out. _

Ian smiled in the darkness. It could, in fact, wait until morning, but he breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that Mickey had his back. 

_ 5am. _ Ian replied. _ I’ll bring coffee. _

^^^^^^^^^^ 

Ian jumped out of bed when his alarm went off a few hours later, silencing it before his younger brothers woke up. He went down to the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee, not bothering to see who was passed out in the living room. He filled two tumblers and headed over to the baseball field. It was still dark outside, but Ian knew the way very well. 

Mickey was waiting for him, looking exhausted but ready to face the day in his workout gear. “You okay?” he asked quickly, eyeing Ian and trying to figure out his dilemma.

“Yeah...it’s stuff with Monica.” Ian passed the coffee through a gap in the fence and climbed over. 

Mickey took a sip from one of the tumblers and grimaced. “Fuck, that’s nasty. What about the cream and sugar?” 

Ian laughed. “I forget that everyone doesn’t go hard core with the stuff. You don’t have to drink it.”

“No, I do. Need the caffeine,” Mickey said while reluctantly taking another gulp.

“Sorry. It’s probably ‘cause I woke you up last night.”

“Well...maybe, but no harm done. I figured it was important.” Mickey started towards the dugout, and Ian followed. They sat down, side by side. The coolness of the morning made Ian shiver, and Mickey inched his arm around his shoulder. It was a warm and unexpected gesture. Ian leaned back and murmured softly, “You ever think about your mom?” It wasn’t a topic that Mickey was usually open to discussing, but Ian figured he’d give it a shot.

Mickey was quiet for a minute before responding. “‘Bout every day. She’s the only reason I give the smallest shit about what Terry thinks. Cuz some part of her must have cared about some part of him, you know, to get married and crank out all of us kids.”

“Is that why you won’t come out? I mean, you don’t want to disappoint him?”

“What is it with you and coming out?” huffed Mickey. “Do I have to do everything on a timetable? Your timetable?”

“No. But is that why you won’t kiss me in the play?”

Mickey shook his head. “I thought you wanted to talk about your mom. Not our shit.”

“Yeah, I know. But this is important too. You and me.” Ian clasped his hand over Mickey’s and left it there.

“Fine. Maybe I don’t want to get my ass beat by Terry. He’s fuckin’ nuts, you know. Nothing I ever do is gonna please him,” Mickey sighed. “He was real excited about me and baseball, but as soon as I got injured, I was worthless all over again. A disappointment. So...yeah…fuck him.”

“Have you told him about your acceptance letter yet?” Ian asked. 

“Fuck no. Not gonna until the day I leave, cuz I’ll be done with him. But I gotta get Mandy outta there. Might take her with me.”

“Bet she won’t leave Lip.” 

“Probably not, unless he fucks her over, which will lead me to fucking him up. Fair warning.”

Ian nodded, appreciating how Mickey always looked out for his sister. 

“Yeah...so...Monica,” said Ian, reminded of what had been weighing on his conscience. “Think I should give her another chance?”

“Don’t know about another chance, but I guess you can enjoy her while she’s around. If you want to. You don’t owe her anything.”

“She says she’s coming to the show. It’s kind of our thing. _ Grease_. Or it used to be,” Ian added wistfully.

“So don’t get your hopes up, just roll with it.”

They were silent now, watching the morning light beginning to shine over the dewy grass in the outfield. 

Mickey turned to Ian, threading his fingers into Ian’s. “The kiss, you know, in the play. I, uh, well...there’s a reason I said I didn’t want to do it.” 

“Yeah, I know. It’s not your thing.”

“No, it’s not that.” A tiny smile was forming on Mickey’s lips like he was harboring a secret from the rest of the world. “I just wanted...well, I wanted to have that kiss...with you, the first one, in private. Just for us. Not everyone else.”

Ian started to respond but couldn’t find the words. He noticed Mickey inching closer to him, his warm breath caressing Ian’s cheek right before their lips found one another. Ian closed his eyes, a soft moan filling the silence as Mickey pressed his mouth firmly against Ian’s, his hands drawing Ian closer, everything fitting together perfectly, and Ian responding in kind. It was just as Ian had hoped it would be...tender, but signature Mickey to take him by surprise. 

^^^^^^^^^^

For a low budget production, all of the sets and costumes for Glendale High’s version of _Grease_ were impressive. A few of the shop classes worked together to create a prop of the front of an old timey vehicle, even installing a windshield and getting the whole thing on wheels. 

In Lishman's version of _ Grease,_ it was the 50’s, and it wasn’t, more like a modern setting with nods to the original time period—the hairstyles and some of the clothing. And high school would always be high school with its cliques and awkward teenage drama. 

Opening night was approaching, and the timing was perfect as Terry would be out of town until Sunday morning. Mickey and Mandy planned to sleep over at the Gallaghers on Saturday night after the cast party at Lishman’s place. 

After all of the months of drama, Ian was ready to make his Sandy shine, and he was extremely proud of everyone in the cast, especially his brother, and of course, Mickey, for committing to his role and even having some fun with it. He really seemed to identify with the misunderstood Danny Zuko, a natural leader with certain appearances to keep up, yet a total softy when the right person came along. Ian felt fortunate that several of his scenes involved acting with Mandy or Mickey, and having them on stage with him helped calm his nerves.

On Thursday night, Mickey was kind enough to help Ian really relax, inviting him over to spend the night. They'd have the house to themselves since Mandy was staying over at the Gallagher’s most nights anyway. 

Ian waited until his younger brothers were asleep before he snuck out the window and climbed down the side of the house, running as fast as his feet could carry him, tired as he was from all of the rehearsing. He texted Mickey when he was close, and Mickey told him to come in through the kitchen. 

Ian could see that the kitchen light was on, and he pushed through the open door cautiously, always slightly nervous about entering the Milkovich house. But any worry melted away when he saw Mickey’s eyes light up once he stepped inside.

Mickey may have mentioned something about having warmed up a pizza, but Ian was only interested in one thing. He dropped his backpack on the ground and practically raced over to where Mickey was standing, planting a long, deep kiss on Mickey’s lips, so deliriously happy to be alone with him and even better, the fact that Mickey was completely receptive to kissing now, so much so, that they ended up on the couch in the main room, not doing anything more than exploring each other’s mouths for nearly an hour. Mickey, turns out, was a really good kisser. But Ian, desperately wanting to strip his boyfriend of every stitch of clothing and bring him to climax, suggested they go to Mickey’s room and get down to business.

Afterwards, they fell asleep, their naked bodies pressed together and fingers intertwined, in Mickey’s smallish bed. Ian woke up in the middle of the night. He’d been dreaming about being with Mickey in his room like this and realized that it had, in fact, become a reality. Just to be sure, Ian rolled over to catch a glimpse of a sleeping Mickey and the contented smile on his face, eyes closed and bare chest rising and falling with each breath. Ian situated himself so that his back was nestled against Mickey’s chest and fell back to sleep. 

When he woke up the next morning, the peacefulness of laying together in the dark was gone. It had been replaced by the sound of someone yelling and things being thrown across the room. Everything a blur, Ian felt himself being lifted from the bed and shoved onto the floor. He finally realized what was happening when he saw the blood splayed across Mickey’s pillow and the reason for the blood—Terry Milkovich’s fists making repeated contact with Mickey’s face.

“I shoulda seen this a long time ago! I told your mother! Fuckin’ faggots!” Terry screamed, his face uglier than Ian had ever seen it.

“I have to hear about you playing a homo from one of my drinking buddies?! And now I see you’ve turned into one!”

Terry paused only so that he could deliver a kick to Ian’s stomach. Ian absorbed the first blow but had enough wherewithal to back away from the subsequent attempt. He scrambled to his feet and picked up one of Mickey’s practice bats, swinging it wildly at Terry and managing to distract him long enough for Mickey to roll out of the bed and away from Terry’s blows. 

The reprieve was short lived as Terry grabbed the end of the bat, yanking it away from Ian and breaking it across his knee. He lunged at Ian, his thick fingers wrapped around his throat, limiting his ability to breathe. Ian clawed at Terry’s fingers and tried to cry out.

Mickey had gathered his last bit of strength, pulling a metal bat out from under his bed and delivering a blow to the back of Terry’s neck that caused him to release his grip around Ian before slumping to his knees.

“Stay the fuck outta my life,” screamed Mickey. Terry continued to mutter homophobic slurs but seemed far too stunned to go after the boys in that moment. Mickey ushered Ian out of the room, grabbing a few pieces of clothing as fast as he could, and making sure Ian had a chance to get his boxers on before they rushed out the front door.


	11. Chapter 11

They ran the few blocks to the Gallagher house, past a handful of older neighbors who were either out walking or raking their lawns, past kids of all ages on their way to school. Everyone they ran by had looks of concern or shock, but they kept going, wanting to put some distance between them and Terry and get someplace safe.

Ian was winded, struggling to catch his breath after Terry’s attempt at choking him, but cringed when he saw Mickey’s bloodied face. Ian tried to hold his hand, but Mickey pushed it away. “I’m fine.”

As they neared the house, they spotted Lip and Mandy coming out of the front gate. Mandy’s mouth dropped open in horror as Mickey finally allowed Lip and Ian to shoulder him into the house. 

“What the fuck?!” cried Mandy. 

“Go get V,” commanded Ian. “Hurry!”

Mandy nodded and ran towards the neighbor’s house. V was the closest person to a nurse they had in the neighborhood, and she kept her place well stocked with medical supplies, thanks to her job at a retirement home. 

Fortunately, V was home, and she and Mandy joined everyone in the Gallagher’s living room. Mickey was sprawled out on the sofa with Ian by his side and Fiona covering their bodies with blankets as Lip made everyone else stay in the kitchen, including a wailing Monica who was demanding to know what had happened to her “baby.”

Ian moved out of the way to make room for V, and Mickey stared blankly at the ceiling while she cleaned up most of the blood and began stitching the cuts on his face. 

Now that the original shock of seeing her brother’s battered face had worn off, Mandy was full of questions. “Who did this? Where were you? What happened to your clothes? Your shoes?”

Ian was intently watching Mickey, wanting to go to his side and only half processing what Mandy was saying. It suddenly dawned on Ian how much pain he was in, and he slumped down to the floor. 

“Ian! Are you alright?” asked Mandy, pulling back the blanket from his shoulders and discovering the ugly red marks on his neck and side.

“Yeah, yeah...I’m fine.”

“Tell me what happened!”

“Other room,” said Ian as Mandy helped him to his feet. The kitchen was practically empty now, thanks to Fiona, who must have taken everyone to school and told them to leave out the back. Lip was still there, sitting at this table, pressing his hands together. “You alright, man?”

Ian nodded. “Just need to talk to Mandy.” 

Lip excused himself from the room to see if V needed anything. 

“Was this Terry?” she asked, pulling chairs out for both of them to sit down.

“Yeah…” said Ian softly. “He found out about the play, I guess. Came home early.”

“Jesus. Fuck. Poor Mickey.” Tears were forming in Mandy’s eyes. “How’d you get mixed up in all of this?”

“Mandy...I, um...I’ve been meaning to tell you...something.”

“W-what?” she stammered.

“Your father...found out something else today. You see...I was there with Mickey. Snuck out last night to go over to your house. We’re, uh...together. Me and Mickey.”

He let the words hang in the silence of the room, hating that this was the way he was telling Mandy, when he should have clued her in a long time ago. 

“You two?” she asked cautiously. “You...and my brother?” 

Ian couldn’t tell if she was pretending to be surprised. Mandy didn’t seem upset, but she kept saying “wow” over and over again under her breath.

“It hasn’t been serious...until recently. I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I couldn’t just ‘out’ him.”

“It’s okay,” she murmured soothingly. “It’s nice. You’re good for him. And I’ll be rooting for you guys.”

“Thanks, Mands.” Ian knew this was a lot for her to process. “We’ll need your support. Now more than ever.”

“You’ve got it.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “Just try not to get your ass beat by my dad again.”

“Fuck, neither of you can go back to that house. And we’ve gotta extra be careful now. Watch our backs. Mickey didn’t leave things...in a very good place...with Terry.” 

“Whatever Mickey gave him, he more than deserved. We at least have to get some of our shit out of the house though. Terry’s likely to burn it all.”

“I’ll ask V to have Kev call us if Terry goes over to the bar today. That would buy us some time,” said Ian reassuringly.

“But what about school? And the show tonight. I’m calling Lishman!” declared Mandy. “We should postpone.” 

“The hell we will.” Mickey slowly advanced towards where they were seated. Lip was behind him. Ian got up immediately and gave Mickey his seat. 

V poked her head in to wave goodbye, and Ian walked her out, thanking her profusely and briefly explaining that Terry was responsible for what had happened. He told V they needed to get some things out of the Milkovich house if Kev could keep them posted if Terry came into the bar for a drink.

When he returned to the kitchen, Lip was making eggs, and Mandy was hovering in the corner, on the phone with Lishman, explaining that Mickey had gotten beaten up pretty badly but that he wanted to go forward with the show. Ian went over to Mickey and crouched down beside him. “I’m sorry, Mick. I didn’t mean for any of this to—”

“Red,” grunted Mickey through swollen lips. “It’s not your fault. Besides, if you hadn’t distracted him, he might have killed me.”

Ian grew silent, a lump forming in his throat at the mention of what could have happened, what still could happen. What a hateful world to live in, where your own flesh and blood turned on you for living your life, or loving whomever you wanted.

Ian was on the verge of tears when he felt a pair of hands on his back. It was Lip, and he’d set two plates of eggs with toast on the table. 

“Eat something, guys,” he insisted. He turned to Mickey. “How do you take your coffee?” 

Ian answered for him. “He likes it with cream and sugar.” Then he added, “Thanks, Lip,” and mustered a grateful smile to his big brother.

After receiving Mandy’s call, Lishman left school and came right over to the Gallagher house. He secured excused absences for his four stars considering what they’d been through that morning. Mickey refused to go to the Emergency Room, insisting that he didn’t want any trouble, but he did want to proceed with that evening’s show. 

“Opening night was gonna be a little rough anyway. Now we’ll have an excuse,” he reasoned. Lishman reluctantly agreed that they would go on as planned and promised to come back in the afternoon to pick up everyone and get them safely to school. He also let them know he’d pay for an officer to be posted outside of the auditorium to be on the lookout for Terry or anybody else who might be a threat.

Lip went upstairs and made up his bed for Mickey. They all insisted he get some rest after taking the pain pill V had given him. Ian tried to rest too, with an ice pack pressed into his side. He was tempted to go upstairs and lay down next to Mickey, wanting to tend to him if he needed anything, but he let him be.

When Fiona and Monica came back to the house—Frank had wandered off per his usual routine—Ian explained the gist of what had happened and got Fiona’s permission to turn the basement into temporary living quarters for the Milkovich siblings. Fiona promised to talk to Kev over the weekend and get some of his regulars to come over and help outfit the space.

Around noon, Kev called to let them know Terry had wandered over to the bar, somewhat delirious but nevertheless wanting a drink. Lip and Mandy made a mad dash over to the house, along with Monica and Fiona, to gather up whatever they could of their possessions before Terry had a chance to destroy them.

Ian locked him and Mickey inside the house, checking the back door as well, knowing that Kev would call if Terry took off suddenly, but not wanting to take any chances. He stopped to look at his reflection in the downstairs bathroom. The angry red marks around his neck had faded slightly—nothing some good stage makeup couldn’t cover, Mandy had reassured him. 

Ian heard footsteps coming down the stairs into the kitchen. He spotted Mickey heading over to the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of orange juice, and taking a huge gulp while trying to keep it from spilling out the sides of his bruised lips.

“A straw, Mickey! Let me get you a straw,” shouted Ian, remembering suddenly and upon seeing Mickey’s annoyed glare, that his services as a caretaker were not wanted.

“Or...not. But I am fixing you something to eat.” Ian preheated the oven and pulled a frozen pizza out for their lunch. “Gotta carb load for tonight.”

“Right,” Mickey nodded and managed a weak smile. He hobbled over to the table to sit down, resting his forehead against his hands and groaning. “Fuck. What am I thinking? This shit hurts! We gotta postpone.” 

“Oh, thank God!” declared Ian, going over to Mickey and kissing him on the top of his head. “I hate to see you suffer like this. I mean, how are you gonna be on that stage, singing and dancing, when your thoughts are probably all running together? And I know you’re in pain.”

“Okay, okay! You’re making my headache worse. Just tonight. We go on tomorrow.” 

“Yes! I’ll call Lishman right now, so we can get the word out. And you and Mandy are staying here...for as long as you want.” Ian picked up Mickey’s phone. “Text her about anything you want her to get from the house.”

“She’s over there now?!” He stood up and nearly lost his balance. Ian sat him back down. “It’s okay. Terry’s out of the house, and she’s over there with Lip and Fiona and Monica.” 

“Monica?”

“Yeah. She’s been helping out this morning. It’s been kinda nice.”

“Did you tell her about us?” Mickey asked.

“I told Mandy. But not anyone else. I think my family probably put two and two together.”

Mickey nodded, “Too bad your mom had to meet your boyfriend under these circumstances.”

“B-boyfriend?” stuttered Ian.

“You know what I mean.”

Mickey, under the various shades of bruises was clearly blushing, and Ian leaned down to give him a tender kiss.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

^^^^^^^^^^

Opening night was postponed to Saturday, and Lishman added a show for the following Friday for those who had already purchased tickets. They’d get a better show anyway with more of the kinks worked out by then and healing for the two leads.

Mickey was right—the first show was a little rough, but Lishman wrote a very compelling introduction to the play about why he’d pushed so hard for same sex leads and how inspired he was by Mickey for not letting his fellow castmates down, despite a personal trauma. Even with the sobering reminder of Mickey’s injuries only partially masked, everyone managed to put their best efforts into the show. 

There were no disruptions or jeers from the audience, just cheering and whistling and people singing along to the music. Ian’s favorite part was, of course, that moment toward the end when Sandy shows up at the carnival, looking like a badass in _his_ all black greaser outfit to impress Danny. And Danny had the same idea, wearing his letterman sweater to prove to Sandy that he’d made a commitment and stuck to it. 

Mickey looked totally adorable in that letterman sweater, and when he threw it off, revealing his black muscle shirt and tight black pants underneath, Ian couldn’t help chuckling about the fact that they looked like twins. But he was mostly relieved not to be in spandex.

When it was time for Danny and Sandy to ride off into the proverbial sunset, Mickey surprised everyone, including Ian, with a full on, unbridled, passionate kiss on the lips. That kiss cemented a standing ovation from the crowd, despite the musical’s hiccups and a few botched lines here and there. Ian blinked away a few tears and hoped that no one noticed.

The entire Gallagher crew was present, even Frank, who’d fallen asleep at the beginning of the show, but Fiona elbowed him awake when it was time to congratulate Ian and Lip on their performances. Debbie had picked flowers from a random neighbor’s yard and made bouquets for her brothers and the Milkovich siblings. 

After curtain call, they waited around in the auditorium until Lishman came out and waved family and friends backstage. He nodded towards the officer standing in the back, who gave him a thumbs up. There had been no sign of Terry.

Ian was the first to see everyone pile in backstage, and he ran over to his siblings to receive the flowers from Debbie and hugs from everyone else. Lip was next to receive the mob, and Monica lingered for a few extra minutes with Ian. 

“Olivia Newton-John ain’t got nothing on your Sandy,” she gushed. “You were fabulous, babe. And that kiss! Wow!” For once, Monica didn’t seem high on anything, other than being genuinely thrilled for Ian. She promised to be at every one of his shows and that Bob would join her for the Sunday matinee. 

“Thanks...Mom,” said Ian. He gave her another hug, soaking in the moment, like Mickey had suggested, but also knowing full well that she was still a flight risk, especially the more the family started needing her again.

As he broke away from the hug, Mickey came over to speak to Monica, shaking her hand as she told him that his performance was “totally Travolta-worthy”. He thanked her and nudged Ian’s side. “Ready?”

“Cast party?” asked Ian.

Mickey nodded wearily, his makeup partially gone, the marks from Terry’s assault apparent. 

“You sure? Maybe you oughta rest,” advised Ian, a hint of worry in his voice. Part of him wanted to be alone with Mickey, to show his gratitude for that onstage kiss, for Mickey being brave and uninhibited, even with an actual audience. 

And it wasn’t just that one show—Ian and Mickey ended the remaining four performances with heartfelt, passionate kisses that every audience went wild over. By the end of the show’s run, the whole school seemed to be buzzing over the innovative direction Mr. Lishman had taken with the show and the amazing chemistry of its two leads. Mandy and Lip had delivered incredible performances as well, but they were happy to have the limelight focused on their siblings.

If people wanted to speculate on whether Mickey and Ian were together or not, it just didn’t seem newsworthy anymore. Karen Jackson might have been inclined to stir some shit up, but she’d run away from home a few weeks before. When Ian found out, he almost felt sorry for her, hearing that she’d had trouble at home, though Lip dismissed her running away as another one of her selfish, attention seeking acts.

Shane, who’d attended their last performance, waited around afterwards to congratulate Ian and Mickey. He apologized to Ian for ditching the show and not standing up for him during the incident in the lunchroom, but he conceded that Mickey made a much better Danny than he ever could have.

In the weeks after the show and leading into winter break, Ian decided not to pressure Mickey about being a traditional couple, aka, holding hands around school or posting obnoxious declarations of love on every single social media platform. He’d leave it up to Mickey to do what made him comfortable and set the pace of things, considering all the ways he’d come around in letting Ian know he cared about their relationship. Ian was content with the way things were going, so long as he was the one who got to be in Mickey’s arms and in his heart. 

And one day, Ian mused to himself, they’d have one hell of a story to tell the grandkids about how their high school musical brought them together.


	12. EPILOGUE

By late spring, Mickey and Mandy were permanent fixtures in the Gallagher house. There was room now since Monica had flown the coop again, as predicted, and Frank wasn’t far behind. Ian felt less bitter about it this time, hurting for his younger siblings, yes, but hopeful that the older Gallaghers could continue to fill the void of their absent parents. 

Terry had managed to stay scarce, especially after Lishman threatened to report him for child abuse—hundreds of play-goers had seen the damage he’d inflicted on his son. Still, Mickey and Ian were cautious about walking alone in the neighborhood, and Mickey carried a knife for extra security when he wasn’t on school grounds. Ian wasn’t thrilled about it, worried about what could happen if things escalated, but he knew Mickey needed it to feel safe.

Besides, they had other things to argue about, like who was the bigger slob in their relationship. Every once in a while, jealousy would creep into the picture, and Ian would tease Mickey about flirting with one of his baseball teammates, or Mickey would mention how many extra shifts Ian was working at the Kash and Grab. It was intense to be dating and living under the same roof—sometimes having more than their fill of each other. Occasionally, Mickey needed to retreat from reality, and Ian, feeling insecure, would respond by being extra clingy.

They finally figured out that at least one solution was spending a day or two apart and then rekindling things at one of their favorite rendezvous spots—the dugout, under the bleachers, or the backstage of the auditorium. 

Once baseball season ramped up and Mickey was away at practice or traveling for games, they started to appreciate each other even more. Now it was Ian’s turn to be sullen and detached, the reality of Mickey moving away for college starting to sink in. Ian had thought about trying out for the spring theater production to distract himself, but decided he’d had enough fame for awhile.

Mickey must have noticed Ian feeling down. Before leaving for an overnighter with the team, he left an envelope for Ian on the pillow in the bed they shared in the basement. It was pretty much their room now since Mandy was usually shacked up with Lip. 

Ian picked up the envelope and tore into it, reading Mickey’s handwritten note, and noticing the page of typed words behind it.

_ Red... _

_ I know a lot will be changing after I graduate and start school in Florida. But I wanted you to read this draft I gave to Lip for my college application essay. He told me to rewrite a bunch of shit and make it more about me, but I figured you’d appreciate what I wrote the first go round. _

_ You don’t have to worry, Ian, about us...when I’m gone. It’s you. It’s always been you. I know we’ll have some hard times ahead and shit, but I know we’ll get through it. The year will fly by, and we’ll figure out how to be together. _

_ I love you, _

_ Mickey _

Ian’s heart pounded in his chest, seeing those three words that he’d felt and wanted to say so many times recently. Though Mickey had never said them out loud, this was almost as good because now Ian had proof. He folded the note and tucked it into his pocket, planning to look at it again in a few hours, probably every hour, until Mickey was back home. He turned his attention to the other paper Mickey had left for him. 

**Personal Essay - Draft #1**

**I’m supposed to write about myself for this essay, and I will. Eventually. But I first want to tell you about this friend of mine. He lives in the same rundown neighborhood that I do, goes to the same underfunded high school that I do, and has had a pretty similar upbringing to me, parents not really in the picture. His folks jumped ship, left six kids to fend for themselves. **

**In my case, things might have turned out differently if my mother hadn’t died when I was nine. My father raised us, if you consider neglect or beatings—take your pick—actual parenting.**

**Anyway, the thing about this friend I have, Ian, on top of everything else, he’s gay. He came out to his family, and because they were so supportive, I think he felt a calling to create a safe space for LGBTQ students at our school.**

**I admired what he did, knowing him since we were younger and him being pals with my little sister. About a year ago, I started to spend more time with Ian, but I had my own priorities, co-captaining our school baseball team and trying to earn an “atta boy” from my dad, or a ticket out of where I grew up. I didn’t want to end up in prison like my older brothers. **

**But then I injured my shoulder at the start of the season my junior year and didn’t believe I had a future any longer. Without baseball, I was just another lowlife, destined for nothing, like my father always said.**

**Except that Ian reminded me of one thing that I’ve always been good at—surviving. I survived my mom passing, and I helped raise my sister and shielded her from our father’s abuse. My dad would go on drug runs with my brothers—eventually letting them take the fall—and leave us for days on our own. I was the one who found a way to keep us fed and kept up our normal routine, even if it meant going to school without sleep or in the same unwashed clothes we’d been wearing all week.**

**So I worked with what I had and did the best I could to get over my disappointment of missing a whole season with my team and the chance to be recruited. As of now, I don’t know if I’ll ever go back to playing like I used to. **

**But I know I won’t give up, because I have people in my life who believe in me. And they’ve convinced me to do the same.**

Ian sat down on the bed and tucked the essay back into the envelope, holding it against his chest. He’d never heard Mickey say anything aloud like he’d written, but he already knew there were many words Mickey kept inside, where they would be safe from ridicule. Ian smiled, thinking about all the time they had in front of them and the words to come between them. 

In just a few months, Ian would be starting his senior year of high school, while Mickey would be a freshman in college, hundreds of miles away. Ian knew he’d make as many road trips as possible down to Florida, and Mandy would likely tag along. It would suck to hell, being apart after fighting so hard to be together, but it was only a year, and then they’d figure out their next steps.

Ian called Mickey on his cell phone to thank him for sharing his essay, but more than anything, to hear his voice. After they chatted briefly—Ian wishing him “good luck” with the game—his parting words to Mickey were, “Oh. And by the way, I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to the SBB organizer, and thank you to azuresky18 for reeling me into this cycle. Major kudos to Erika for being an awesome beta! And of course, thanks to @anothergallavichlove for the gorgeous art featuring these two “greasers.” 
> 
> They go together like...rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong.


End file.
